


Parallax

by lori (zakhad), zakhad



Series: Captain and Counselor [44]
Category: Star Trek: The Next Generation
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-19
Updated: 2016-04-06
Packaged: 2018-05-27 13:52:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 37,701
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6287179
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zakhad/pseuds/lori, https://archiveofourown.org/users/zakhad/pseuds/zakhad
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Possibly, there are more benefits than drawbacks to having a non-human wife. Sometimes the balance tips. It all depends on how you look at things.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, yes, I knew this one would be one of those stories. But we know it gets better.
> 
> The immediate prequel will be Pacing the Cage. The backstory is Actions Speak Louder, and of course, all that comes after it.

"Jean-Luc!"

He woke as his head started to fall forward, when Beverly shrieked his name. "Sorry," he blurted automatically. He rubbed his eyes and tried to focus on the monitor.

Beverly was peering out at him, through subspace, frowning. "You need to go to bed and stay there for a while until you catch up on your sleep."

Jean-Luc laughed at her prescription and leaned back in his chair. "You have no idea what you're suggesting."

"Is everything all right?" She'd called to update him on how their deceased friend's wife was doing, and to check in -- he suspected that Beverly was actually curious about whether Deanna was still in Phase.

"We're fine. Amy's going through more of the same -- I think she's getting worse. We're struggling to keep her in day care, her tantrums are scaring the staff."

The intense concern diminished, to be replaced by sympathy. "I'm sorry to hear that. Is Dr. Mengis making any headway?"

"He's on subspace this morning with a specialist from Betazed, trying to see about an appointment."

"That can't be making it easy to get through the day. You said you're delivering supplies and staff to Cardassia -- I know better than to assume it's just a milk run. It rarely goes as easily as it sounds like it will."

"We'll be fine."

Beverly smiled, relaxing. "Okay. For a minute I was afraid that you might still be having Phase induced insomnia."

He tried, so very hard, to keep a straight face. But he could tell he failed, just from the way her eyebrows went up. "Just -- stop," he exclaimed, holding up a hand. "Don't. You aren't my doctor any longer, Beverly Crusher, and you don't get to -- "

"I'm not! Jean-Luc -- "

"I'm not going to talk to you about -- "

"I don't want to talk to you about sex, Jean-Luc, I'm worried because there has to be something wrong," she exclaimed stridently. "There's no way the Phase should have lasted for this long! It's been weeks! Didn't you ever get around to reading those articles you were pretending to read, when we were on that shuttle for hours?"

He fumed at the tiny image of his friend. Silently.

"The Phase is supposed to be brief. A week, maybe two at the most. It's been five fucking weeks!"

He covered his face with both hands and turned his chair away, almost groaning at her word choice. It wasn't funny, far from it, and it was humiliating that he'd become so exhausted trying to see to the needs of the women in his life that he hadn't done as he normally would and researched the issue, or confided in the doctor. He hadn't even thought about it as an issue -- everything had been so regimented and focused, in an attempt to keep himself sane. On duty, he hardly saw Deanna outside staff meetings and set aside any thought about Deanna, in an attempt to not be distracted. Off duty, he tried to spend time with the kids and have some sort of normal schedule for them, while dealing with a humiliated Betazoid woman who was having trouble keeping her mind off sex.

Behind him, Beverly kept talking. "You need to get her into sickbay if she hasn't gone. There shouldn't be -- Jean-Luc. Stop being this way, turn around."

"You're saying there should be some end to the Phase," he said, spinning back to look at the monitor. "I understood it was a transition to sexual maturity."

"There's a period of extreme hormonal fluctuations that can lead to irrational behavior and mood swings, at the start, but it's supposed to subside. If it's still a problem and she hasn't settled down you need to get her in."

"Why are you so worried about her? Was there a reason you thought something was wrong?"

"You're thinking I didn't tell you something I should have. I've been trying to get her to call me, and she won't -- that's the sort of thing a Betazoid in Phase will do, become caught up in the target of her affections and ignore everything else. Not to mention she might look at me as competition. Is she still on duty?"

He thought about how Deanna had appeared to be rational enough, and none of the department heads had said anything to him about something being off, as he had quietly requested that they do. But this was starting to make him wonder if that had been the best approach.

"Sickbay. NOW. Call me tomorrow." The monitor blinked to the Starfleet emblem.

"Damn bossy -- " He scrubbed his face with his palms, thought about another cup of tea, and considering throwing the mineral sample that was sitting on the edge of his desk through something. "Picard to Mengis."

"Captain," came the clipped, officious reply.

"Have you seen Deanna at all in the past three weeks, in sickbay?"

"She brought Amy last week, twice."

"I meant have you seen her -- have you examined her?"

A pause. "No, sir. Not since she came in to talk to me five weeks ago."

"I believe you should." He knew she had gone to Mengis about birth control, and probably been examined and diagnosed at that time.

Another, longer, pause. "Does this have anything to do with the Phase?"

"Yes."

"She's still.... Sir."

"You need to call her in. Picard out."

Jean-Luc stared across the ready room at the couch for a minute, and decided Beverly was right. A nap was called for. He'd need to be more alert to handle the aftermath of having Mengis deal with Deanna instead of talking to her directly, but until he could assimilate this problem completely, there was no way he could face her and be coherent. She would understand why he'd done it this way, eventually.

The annunciator kicked him awake like a blow to the stomach. Groaning, he sat up and ran a hand over his head, and swore quietly. Making sure he was fully clothed and all in one piece, he said, "Come in."

Mengis strode in and sat in the chair facing the couch, in his upright, stiff way. He did a very understated double-take. In a swift singular motion he had the tricorder out of the holster at his waist and going. Jean-Luc waited, watching him blearily and not caring.

"I have completed an exam of the commander and sent her home on medical leave," he announced.

Jean-Luc waited, pretending to be patient but having no energy to comment, posture or ask.

"I have her permission to brief you on the matter. I gave her a strong sedative and she doubted she will be conscious by the time you get there. Would you like me to be thorough, or succinct?"

"I'm shaky on medical terminology on my best days," Jean-Luc said.

"And you, too, are heading for your quarters, because you are in an appalling state as well. Unlike her, you will likely be recovered by the morning."

Jean-Luc closed his eyes. "How bad is she?"

"I'm going to preface this by telling you that it isn't your fault," Mengis said, his voice less businesslike. He sounded sympathetic, actually. "The Phase isn't overwhelming like pon farr, but I would suspect that a bonded pair would each be affected in similar fashion -- and there is a complicating factor for her. You remember I think our experience in the Briar Patch?"

The reminder led to a sudden sensation of having a rock in his midsection. Another one appeared to be sitting in the front of his skull, with a hammer and chisel behind it. "Yes."

"She recovered enough to have Amy. She's been healthy to this point. The Phase sends the hormones into overdrive, however, and the -- in nontechnical terms, the Phase has overwhelmed her system and one of her glands was weaker than I had been able to detect. The stress placed on it by the rest of the reproductive system in essence blew it out -- she's been ovulating and her system is unable to correct itself. It's supposed to, but it can't, and there are limited options. Removal of the ovary and the gland, or pregnancy, are the only way to stop this. Either way, she's never going to be able to have another child."

Keeping his eyes closed wasn't enough. Jean-Luc covered his face with his hands and sat, elbows on knees, trying to breathe. He had told her he didn't want to go through another pregnancy, but this felt insurmountable, now that the choice had been forced.

"She needs to talk to you in the next day or so, and the two of you need to decide. She only has the one ovary and it's nearly depleted. She's not going to be able to carry to term, either, we'll have to use an incubator. An artificial womb. Once she's past the first trimester we move the fetus into the incubator."

"I can't -- " The words were barely audible, and nothing else came.

"I'm sorry, sir. If there were anything else... I consulted specialists on Betazed, if I had found any other way -- "

"Thank you."

After the door closed behind the doctor, he threw himself back on the couch and stared at the ceiling for a while. Then he remembered that he was supposed to go home. He stood, and realized, and sighed. "Picard to Guinan."

"Yes, Captain?"

"I have a favor to -- "

"No, sir, you do not. Because Dr. Mengis called a while ago and already asked me to pick up the kids from school, and keep them until you come get them."

"Okay."

"I hope you both get plenty of sleep. Go on. Guinan, out."

Jean-Luc went out to the bridge. Mendez stood, his concern obvious as he watched the captain approach. "I've been ordered off duty until tomorrow. You have the bridge, Mr. Mendez."

"I hope you feel better, sir." He watched Jean-Luc head for the lift. "I hope she does, too."

Jean-Luc rode the lift in his sleep, apparently, as when the doors open he jumped a little. He pushed himself off the wall and went the last hundred miles down the corridor to the third door on the right, and started taking off the rumpled uniform.

The bedroom wasn't completely dark; the reading lamp on his side of the bed was on. Deanna was asleep. She'd curled up in a fetal position in the center of the bed, the covers wrinkled in a spiral around her, only her forehead and the top of her head visible on the pillow. Knowing she was sedated, he sat heavily on the edge of the bed and started to take off his boots, but when he felt like he might overbalance, went the other way and swung his feet up to lay on top of the covers. It didn't matter.

He was almost asleep when she wriggled up to him and pressed her back against him.

"Dee?"

No answer. He rolled on his side and slid his hand over her shoulder, down her arm, over her hip, pulled himself closer and draped his leg over her, his face in her hair.

"It's going to be okay," he whispered. "I know you want another child. We'll be all right."

His hand had come to rest on her forearm, and he felt the muscles there relax. Her ribs moved against his chest in a sigh.

"I'll take care of you."

Another sigh. He pulled the covers down from her face, raising his head, and saw her faint smile. Her visible eye opened slightly. "I know."

"Whatever that means."

"Okay."

He gathered her in his arms and kissed the top of her head, and let himself fall asleep, regardless of knowing he would wake up with a stiff arm in a while. It didn't matter. There were more important things to take care of.

 


	2. Chapter 2

"Jean," Deanna whispered. His eyes opened -- it wasn't quite like being hung over, but he felt lagged, definitely in recovery mode. Better, though. His arm felt like he'd had a Betazoid sleeping on it all night.

"How are you?"

"It's time to -- "

"Deanna, you aren't going anywhere. The kids are with Guinan. I'm not going anywhere. How do you feel?"

She started to move, turning in his arms, and without thinking he pulled her over to rest on his chest. That brought her face within centimeters of his, and while she looked tired she didn't look quite so drawn out and dead-eyed. Her smile was forced, however. He spread his hands across the small of her back, pressed her against him, and her eyes went wider.

"Good enough," he said, grinning. "I have something for you."

Her smile became less forced. "You've always been a morning person."

"You said before that you didn't want to be pregnant, because Phase children are usually twins, triplets, or more. You know I wouldn't force you to do that, but given the current situation...."

"You want to -- are you sure? Amy needs so much, and Yves, and it's not been easy -- I know the current mission isn't so tense as the last, but that won't necessarily stay true -- "

"What do you want?"

"We have to -- "

He pushed harder, inching her up a bit, feeling her weight on his ribs and her breasts pushing his clavicles. "What. Do. You. Want."

She smiled again, softly, and he slid his hand up her back, following the line of her vertebrae until his fingers were in her hair, mussing it even more around her face and enjoying how that amused her.

"You're not going to win this argument," he muttered. "Don't start it. Tell me."

"I want you," she whispered. "As much as I can have of you. Our children -- I know they will be amazing people, because you are so amazing with them. But having so many -- "

"If it becomes more difficult than we can manage while in service, we'll do something about it. A leave of absence. A promotion. More help -- someone to help consistently with the kids. Whatever it takes. And I will not regret that."

Deanna was giving him That Look again, and his hand slid over her left buttock. She lowered her head and kissed and nibbled along his throat. 

He started with her pants -- she'd done the same thing, falling into bed half-undressed, and getting things out of their way involved pulling the covers out of the way, shoving at various hems and sleeves. She began to be more aggressive and it was obvious she was letting the Phase back into play, letting go of her fear and the rigid control she'd been exerting to keep herself in check. Knowing that the kids were in good hands and that nothing was waiting for his attention, no one was waiting for him anywhere, helped him relax into the process of stripping, starting to touch and taste and worship her without reservation. 

She seemed to be less crazed than she'd been, perhaps because the sedative was still in effect though wearing off. He was able to look at her body for once, since they'd left the lamp on and he had to sit up and peel off his shirt. Mengis was right -- she'd lost weight, and while she still had the curves and contours he was so familiar with, her hips stood out more than they should. 

She tossed aside her panties, and fell on the mess of covers with her head on the pillow, her shoulder-length hair in disarray around her head and her eyes on him. She crossed her arms across her chest, resting on her side for a moment. He reached for one of the trio of hyposprays under the lamp, noting that Mengis must have come to her, rather than calling her to sickbay, because why else would he have been in their quarters and been able to replace the nearly-empty medications he'd given them. 

Deanna watched him give himself a dose of the one that had helped him keep up with her, for the past few weeks. She'd been upset by that, because it suggested to her that she was being demanding, but he'd reassured her it could be temporary. "Are you sure?"

"Having Amy and Yves has been... indescribable. We have so much more than I ever imagined I could.... It's so much more than I anticipated."

"Even though it's been difficult with Amy, and that could happen again."

"Amy's difficulties have a solution. It's just not going to be immediate."

"Okay."

He sat against the headboard and reached, and her hand came out to take his. "Okay?"

"I've figured out by now that I can trust your judgment, when it comes to this sort of thing," she said, another of her warm, happy smiles brightening up the room.

Jean-Luc swept his thumb across the back of her hand, and brought it to his lips. Her hand stayed to caress his cheek. He leaned, kissing her, and she moved closer, and her body felt almost feverishly warm against his. The bond hummed and rose between them in waves as she took him in. 

Unlike all the other times over the past weeks, she let him take the lead and moved with him, without the underlying desperation she'd felt so often. When they were both sated, and she hummed happily in his arms, he thought about the bath, and she agreed, and she laughed when he climbed over her, picked her up in his arms, and carried her into the bathroom. 

He seated her on the edge of the tub, and went to get towels out of the cabinet while the water started. "I think you should grow your hair out," he said, as she tested the temperature of the water filling the tub with her toe. 

Her hand went to the wavy mass on her shoulder. "I was just thinking of cutting it again."

He brought a couple of folded towels to the edge of the tub. "I liked it long."

"How long are you talking about? You know how thick and tangled it can get. And the captain wants his officers to be presentable on duty, and sometimes I have to be on the bridge five minutes ago."

"I'll help you."

She stared at him, a wrinkle appearing over the bridge of her nose. "With my hair?"

"Daughters need that kind of help. I helped Meribor, but I'm a little rusty with a brush. I could use the practice."

Deanna thought about it, as she settled into the water. The computer shut off the faucet automatically. "You want to help me with my hair."

"I believe I've finally managed to shock you. What a strange thing it took."

"Jean-Luc, you just told me you wanted to -- a man who doesn't have a hair brush wants to do my hair," she said, watching him sit in the water across from her. 

"Perhaps I should have stayed in that other universe where my wife doesn't mind if I brush her hair?"

For two incredulous seconds, she stared, jaw dropped, and then she came at him in a rush of water, laughing. He caught her as she came down on him and let her calm down before he put his arms around her. They sat in the water quietly for a while. He was almost dozing again, enjoying being with her without her having to struggle with ongoing sexual tension.

"I'm very lucky, you know," she murmured. "I have a husband willing to poke fun at himself to keep me smiling, in spite of everything."

"I'm not." He dragged his fingers through her hair and rolled his wrist, wrapping strands around his fingertips. "I thought it was only fair. If I like your hair long, and you have reasons to keep it short that I can -- "

Her head came up off his shoulder, and he blinked, looking into her eyes. He started to shake his head in dismay when she started to cry. 

"What did I do now?" he said with a sigh. 

A smile reassured him, though the tears didn't stop. "Horrible man, making me love you more every time I think I couldn't possibly," she said, sliding her arms around his neck.

"Well, that's all right, then. Wash my back?"

"Perhaps when I'm done with your front." Deanna reached to the left for the soap, sitting on the shelf at the corner of the tub.

"Take your time."


	3. Chapter 3

"You'll be in charge of the fleet," Admiral Adira said.

"I'll review the reports. We should be there within the week, once we complete repairs we'll depart starbase 253 at warp seven."

Adira gazed at him thoughtfully from the monitor. "How is your wife?"

"She's well. I gather you've heard she's pregnant?"

"Congratulations, Captain."

"Thank you, Admiral."

"I understand you already have a boy and a girl -- do you know yet which this one is?"

"Both, actually. One of each."

Adira's smile broadened. "My second and third children were twins. It can be a challenge. My wife was a little upset... I hadn't told her that twins run in my family."

Jean-Luc continued to smile benignly at the admiral, while he reminisced a little, and after the conversation terminated he glanced out the viewport. The starbase was on the edge of a nebula, so there were waves of thousands of shades of blue, purple and lines of white interspersed throughout the cloud. Some distance away, the _Venture_ remained in position, mirroring the _Enterprise_ on the far side of the base.

He rose and headed home, where Deanna was -- the admiral's call had interrupted a visit with their friends. When he came through the door he was greeted by the laughter of children -- Lora's high-pitched giggling, Yves' peals of little-boy glee, and as he walked in Amy looked up from where she sat in the middle of the floor, surrounded by blocks she'd been pelting the ever-patient Fidele with, and a wide grin of joy blossomed on her chubby face. She rolled up on her hands and feet, stood up unsteadily, and came at him at her top speed, wobbling a little drunkenly.

Conversation stopped. He grabbed Amy under the arms and swung her up, tossing her a few inches into the air and catching her, just to hear the laugh. Draping the giggling girl over his shoulder, he smiled at Yves and Lora, playing kadis-kot on the floor in front of the toy box and not paying any attention.

He made it to the couch and handed Amy over to Tom, stepped past Beverly, and sat on the other end next to Deanna. She looked a little tired but happy. The blue dress she wore matched Beverly's eyes. "The admiral proved that there is a betting pool at Command."

"I suppose you gave him an edge," Deanna said.

"What betting pool?" Beverly asked. "About the baby?"

Deanna turned to their friends and shrugged a little. "I didn't tell you, because I wasn't sure, but we found out yesterday that it's twins."

"Really?" Beverly was delighted, threw up her arms to give Dee a hug and laughed. "I wondered about that."

"Aren't Phase babies usually multiples?" Tom asked.

"I think Beverly was anticipating quintuplets or something, and she's relieved that it's only twins," Jean-Luc said.

Deanna glanced at him as she pulled out of the hug. "That would be you, actually."

"I told you, I'm all right with whatever you have."

"You could always have triplets later, space out the quints a little," Tom said, settling back with an elbow on the back of the couch. He'd put Amy on the floor and let her run free again.

Deanna made it for about fifteen seconds, looking at the floor, and jumped up to run into the bedroom. Beverly watched her go with dismay all over her face. She stared at the closed bedroom door for a moment. "Jean-Luc?" she asked, turning back around to give him an intense look demanding an answer.

"She can't have any more," he said quietly. "The only reason she's pregnant now has to do with residual injuries left over from the Briar Patch. The Phase went awry because of a gland the radiation damaged, and pregnancy was one of two options to stop it, and it was the only way we were going to have any other children. Mengis thinks the Phase was early onset because of the damage."

Beverly actually started to cry. She took Tom's hand, reaching out for comfort, but he looked more than a little upset himself. He'd come forward at the news, and shifted uncomfortably, sitting on the edge of the couch.

"I should go to -- "

"No," Jean-Luc said quietly.

"Well, then, you should," Beverly exclaimed. "We'll stay here with the kids."

Tom's blue eyes followed him as he headed in. Deanna sat on the end of the bed, valiantly trying to stop crying, holding her hands over her nose and mouth.

"Tom's sharpening a blade, so he can fall on it for upsetting you," he said quietly as he sat next to her.

A flicker of amusement broke through, but it wasn't enough. She began to cry in earnest as his arm went around her.

"I'm sorry," she gasped at length. "It's just hormones, I'm sure."

"I'm not. It's a loss of something you weren't supposed to lose. How many times have you told me that feelings don't have be rational to exist?"

He let her cry on the shoulder of his uniform, swaying gently, watching the slow shift of the colors in the nebula overhead. No whispered reassurances; he'd learned they could make this worse. When the tears dwindled to a stop she went in to wash her face, and he returned to reassure their friends. Amy had fallen asleep in a little ball against Fidele, surrounded by blocks.

"Is she all right?" Beverly exclaimed.

"Yes. She's washing her face. I know you want to apologize, but it's better just to let it go, Tom."

Tom dragged his hand across his mustache. "Yeah. Guess I can see how that would go."

Dee smiled as she came out, though a little red-eyed still, and Tom stood up. He watched her go back to her spot on the couch. "I'm getting a cup of something -- want anything?"

"Oh, some tea," Deanna exclaimed. "Tarkalian."

"I'd like some, too," Beverly said.

Jean-Luc picked up his little girl carefully and took her to her crib, in the room she shared with Yves. When she was asleep Amy looked so angelic, her auburn hair often floating away from her head like a halo, it was so fine and sparse. He bent to kiss her forehead gently and turned to find Yves had come in behind him, and once his father's attention was on him, he raised his arms. Picking him up, Jean-Luc embraced him firmly, kissing his son on the top of the head.

"Is Maman okay?" Yves whispered.

He'd been asked this often, over the past six weeks. "She's fine. Remember I told you she's feeling a little tired, a little sick, because she's going to have a baby?"

Yves nodded, cheek against his father's chest. "Okay."

"Are you tired? It's getting late. You usually go to bed about now. Why don't you put on pajamas?"

He put Yves down and watched him open a dresser drawer. Heading out to the living room, he gave Tom a look. The other captain put his half-empty glass on the coffee table and stood, suggesting that they go home for now.

Hugs all around, especially Lora -- she was turning into a teenager already, that funny little Bajoran-human girl with Tom's twisted sarcasm habit, and nearly tall enough for him to hug without stooping. She whispered a sweet good-night in his ear, and danced out after her adopted father and stepmother on the way to the transporter room.

Deanna stood looking at him with crossed arms. "I'm so glad we can spend a little time with them before we go off to defend the quadrant."

"Lora's almost ready to break some hearts."

"Give her a few years and puberty. Is Yves in bed? He's not asleep."

"I'll go check on him. He was changing into his pajamas."

Yves had been joined by Fidele, laying next to the little boy's bed. He was telling his dog a story, reading one of his favorite books to him. "Good night, _mon chou._ I love you."

"I love you, Papa."

"Good dog." Jean-Luc patted Fidele's head, leaned to tousle Yves' hair, glanced in the crib -- Amy had rolled her chubby little body over and sprawled on her stomach -- and left the room.

Deanna was at the dressing table, brushing her hair, and he came up behind her to take the brush. He had brushed it occasionally before, sometimes, but actually doing something with her hair was different. He started to brush, until her waves and curls were free of tangles, and began at the top of her head to attempt a long herringbone braid. It took a long time, as he had a tendency to pull too much hair at a time and had to undo an inch or two of hard-won braid to fix it. When he reached the ends she held up a mirror and swiveled around to examine the end result in the larger wall mirror.

"I'm impressed," she said.

"By the time it gets down to your hips, I should be faster," he said, smoothing stray hairs down with his palm.

Deanna looked up at his face, her pleased smile joined by happy lights in her eyes. "It's going to take a long time to grow it out that long, you know."

Smirking, he leaned down and kissed her forehead. "I'm not going anywhere. How are you feeling?"

"I've been nauseous all day. And my breasts are hurting."

"At least you haven't been craving those damned pickles."

"No, but I would absolutely love some chocolate."

He grinned. That was a common refrain, pregnant or not. "Anything more specific?"

"Chocolate-covered strawberries."

He went, and returned from the replicator, setting the glass of water on the table on her side of the bed with the bowl of strawberries. She emerged in one of his old uniform shirts and red bikini bottoms. Despite being seven weeks pregnant, she looked fine -- more than fine. She'd regained the weight lost during the Phase, and her breasts were the only external sign of the pregnancy so far, veins showing up everywhere and the aureoles getting darker.

He picked up a book from his table and started to read while she ate strawberries, slowly, nibble by nibble. She could probably tell he was glancing at her and enjoying the way she savored every bite. When he found a poem he thought she might enjoy, he started reading it aloud. It was about spring, and love, and she finished her last berry, set aside the bowl, and settled into bed next to him to listen to the last few lines.

He ordered out the lights, and kissed her -- chocolate kisses, and he lingered on the third to explore for a minute with his tongue, contemplatively. She returned the kiss but let him stop, let him settle on his left side facing her.

Perhaps she would feel better tomorrow night, he thought.

Deanna backed in against him and his arms went around her, his chin against the back of her head, as had become their usual position in bed. She sighed, he sighed, and he watched the nebula reshape itself above them while she began to snore lightly.


	4. Chapter 4

Jean-Luc stood, bringing the conversations around the table to a halt. There were ten starship captains sitting, and another ten present via holographic projection, standing around the room behind the chairs.

"I understand your concerns," he said, pacing a few steps toward the viewports, turning, pacing back, as he spoke. "I realize that many of you have a long history of reasons to mistrust the Romulans. But I know that you all have access to the same briefing that I was given, in this matter. The Romulans have as much to lose as we do, if the alien fleet continues to attack the colonies and bases along our borders. They sent ten of their warships to support the effort -- "

"Why not twenty? Fifty?" Brannagh exclaimed, belligerent. The man had lost most of his crew and his vessel in the Dominion War. Jean-Luc gazed steadily at the captain of the _Bellerophon_ until the man took a deep breath and calmed somewhat.

"The rest of the Romulan fleet is thinly spread on the edges of the Empire, attempting to secure their borders against the Asili. As well as a dozen other Beta Quadrant species starting to move into the Alpha Quadrant."

"It's strange enough to think we're allies, strange to work alongside them, but I agree -- we need to do this," Captain March said calmly. "By the book."

"I don't like it," Wells announced, sounding sullen. "I didn't like working with Cardassians either. But if you can tell us you don't have a bad feeling about this, Jean-Luc, I can suspend my disbelief for a while."

Jean-Luc stared down the table at the gathered men and women, most of them human, and crossed his arms. "Our orders -- "

"You know what March is saying. I agree with him. What does your intuition tell you, Jean-Luc?" Glover exclaimed. "You know how it is -- you've confronted them just as many times as any of us who've done time on the Neutral Zone."

While Jean-Luc considered this under the intense gaze of twenty veteran starship captains, the door opened. Deanna arrived, and heads turned. She hadn't had any contact with the majority of the officers present, and they were clearly curious -- she ignored the intensity of stares and came to her own captain, coming to a halt just out of arms' reach.

"I'm sorry to interrupt, sir, but Subcommander Kota has sent us the sensor data you requested, as well as updated sector maps. He extended an invitation to dine with him tomorrow, for the midday meal."

Aware of the tension that pronouncement caused, Jean-Luc nodded. "Thank you, Commander. I haven't had the chance to ask -- what's your impression of Kota?"

Deanna remained impassive, with the slightest trace of a smile. "Are you requesting my impartial observations, or feedback based on what I sensed?"

"I suppose both. You realize as much as anyone here that our history with the Romulans includes quite a lot of subterfuge?"

"I can tell you that most of the Romulan fleet feels the same uncertainty as most of our own," she said, putting a hand on her slightly-bulging abdomen. At twelve weeks the twins were showing, and she'd proven to be sensitive to smells in the extreme, not to mention the havoc it was playing with her empathy. She had been joking about sensing the single-celled organisms in the labs. "The Subcommander isn't trying to deceive us. He's one of the few from whom I can sense a determination to see that the mission goes well, and I don't detect any rage, or even what I would call suspicion. Caution, yes. Doubt. But there's also fear, and that I think can be attributed to the mission -- it's what Kota feels when we discuss the alien fleet and the attacks along their borders."

"So you think we can trust them," Shelby said, speaking for the first time.

Deanna turned to look down at the captain, who was seated two chairs from the head of the table. "Not exactly. Romulans aren't Vulcans, but they do have psionic abilities similar to Vulcans, and the ability to shield their thoughts is something that many practice. I don't detect such activity but that doesn't mean anything, since I'm not a telepath. But the times I've witnessed communications with them this week, or spoken with them myself, there's been no subterfuge."

"You're not a telepath," Brannagh said dubiously.

"The commander is an empath. Something that comes in handy at times," Glendenning said. Tom had been sitting quietly across the table from Shelby, being as professional as he could. "Saved my life quite a few times, actually."

Jean-Luc wished he hadn't said it. Stares, at Tom, and then back at Deanna. "Thank you, Commander," he exclaimed, the dismissal in his voice clear.

Deanna gave him a nod and turned on a heel, and ignored the eyes following her as she left at a casual pace. Jean-Luc watched, noting who stared the longest, and exchanged an eye-roll with Shelby, who was displeased.

"When did you work with Commander Troi?" Karsden exclaimed. He was looking at Tom.

"Classified," Glendenning said simply, without his usual smirk.

Karsden's dark, slightly-bulging eyes fixed themselves on Jean-Luc.

"The commander has proved herself well enough," he said, returning to sit in his chair.

A mutter from somewhere down the table, followed by a number of uneasy glances on the parts of those at that end of the room, proved that there were still those who had opinions that differed -- likely the opinion had to do with his relationship with her. Tom lounged in his chair, fiddling with his empty cup with his left hand, his appearance deceptive -- the advanced state of slouch was, Jean-Luc knew, really an expression of ire. Tom Glendenning tended to disguise his willingness to brawl or scheme beneath indifference and laziness until he was ready to make his move.

"Back to the question," Glover exclaimed.

"We are here because an ally needs help, and we need to deal with this particular foe before they reach Federation space. There have already been incursions, small groups of their ships, within sensor range of some of our colonies. We know they are merciless and no efforts to establish communication with them have succeeded. My intuition tells me that we need all the help we can get."

It wasn't exactly what they wanted, but it was enough to get them to stop fixating on not trusting the Romulans and start to talk about the actual battle plan. Part of this was about feeling comfortable with each other, so when the inevitable blustering and joking started, he took it as a good sign.

At the end of the meeting, as everyone else terminated their holo-projection or left the room, Jean-Luc's name was called out by Captain Graves, whose hologram stood closest to the head of the table in front of the viewport. Graves was a tall, older man with salt-and-pepper hair, broad shoulders, and the intense gaze of someone who watched and listened more than he spoke and understood more than he revealed. Jean-Luc smiled at Shelby, clasping hands briefly, and she followed everyone else out, on her way to go see Deanna before she returned to her ship. Tom hadn't lingered; he and Beverly would be back that evening for dinner.

"Kelvin," Jean-Luc said, stepping away from the table toward the hologram.

"It's true, isn't it?"

Jean-Luc frowned, tilting his head a little. "I'm sorry?"

"I've been out in the far reaches of the Alpha Quadrant for a long time," Graves said in his softer version of his usual booming baritone. "I don't get to hear a lot about the rest of you, and don't often pay much attention to what I do hear. When someone told me you had an affair with one of your officers, I ignored it. When an admiral mentioned you married your first officer, on the other hand -- and is it just some quirk of subspace holography, or is she pregnant?"

"We have children already. This is her third."

Graves stared, his expression revealing nothing. "I haven't seen you in years," he said at last. "But I don't remember you being this reckless."

"Why don't you come over for dinner? I'm having a number of friends in -- I don't know if you remember Jack's wife, Beverly?"

A smile at that, but it faded fast. Doubt, in those dark brown eyes. "What time?"

"Seventeen thirty?"

"See you then." The holo-projection winked out, leaving the empty deactivated frame.

Jean-Luc returned to his ready room, feeling a little frustrated with his fellow captains in general. He stared at the stars and wished things were simpler -- it used to be that enemies were enemies, and friends gave you the benefit of the doubt instead of judging at the outset and making unfounded assumptions. But of course, he thought, enemies had turned out to be allies sometimes, because it was the Federation's habit of creating allies out of anyone, no matter how different they were in form or nature. He had always agreed with that policy.

Unfortunately, his fellow officers in Starfleet were a case in point of how difficult it could be to put this into practice -- all the diverse viewpoints and dogma and beliefs could be as frustrating as they could be enriching. How easily professionals, officers of long standing, could be distracted in such an important mission, by the brief visit of a pregnant Betazoid woman in uniform. How it could put doubt in the eyes of an officer with whom he'd served for years, and now he had to once again engage in his own personal form of diplomacy -- bring Kelvin into the same room as his friends, teach him how to trust that his old friend Jean-Luc Picard hadn't lost his mind.

Once again he imagined himself, his friend Jack, and Beverly -- what would Jack have done, had he met Beverly on their own vessel and she had been in the chain of command. What would they have done, if she'd been the second officer or the security officer.

The soft beep of a reminder he'd set in the computer brought him out of his thoughts, and he glanced out the viewport at the handful of starships currently in view, as they held position -- the warbird hovering just off the saucer section of the _Enterprise_ was proof of the progress they'd made, since the Dominion War, in putting to bed the age-old hostilities that Starfleet had struggled with all his life, and for two generations previous. But it felt like they were still limping on sore, battle-damaged feet.

He sighed and went to retrieve the children from school -- it was his turn, to get them out of daycare and see that they made it to Natalia's care. It was easier for everyone concerned if he could check in, as Amy responded better to him when she was at the mercy of her flawed nervous system.

When the nursery door opened, the wail hit him full force, as did Yves -- his little boy clung to his hand and looked at him with anguished eyes. He crossed the room and picked Amy off the floor -- she sat alone, red-faced, her eyes squeezed shut and her hands over her ears as if she couldn't bear another moment of whatever she'd been hearing. He yanked the red blanket off the chair nearby and dropped to his knees, threw the blanket out on the floor, put her down on her back, and began to wrap her up in it. Once rolled up and held tightly against his chest, she abruptly stopped shrieking. Little whimpers of discontent continued for a moment, and ceased. She whined, softly, and said "Papa."

The wide-eyed nursery attendants seemed relieved. One of them held an infant and the other two went back to tidying up, pulling linens out of cribs and playpens. "Thank you, sir," the one holding the infant said.

"I'm sorry -- I forgot to turn off the 'do not disturb' on my comm badge after the meeting. Did you try to contact the commander?"

"They said on the bridge that she wasn't there, and she hasn't answered me," Lucy said. Finally, he remembered her name.

"Computer, location of Commander Troi?"

"Commander Troi is in sickbay."

That would explain it all -- why she hadn't responded when she sensed Amy's full-on screaming fit, why she hadn't responded to his brooding in the ready room, why she wasn't on the bridge. "Thank you, Lucy," he exclaimed as he launched for the door. "Yves, come on."

He caught himself on the way to the lift, slowed down so Yves could keep up with him, and thought about contacting Mengis but refrained -- Yves didn't need to hear that his mother was ill. "Picard to Greenman -- you need to meet me on deck ten, take the kids."

"On my way."

Natalia was there when he emerged from the lift and with her usual level of perception, took a look at them and held out her arms. "We're going to the holodeck to see some animals, Yves, what do you think about that?" she announced with forced cheer. She embraced Amy with enough force that the transition resulted in barely a whimper. "Whenever you're ready to get them -- I'll get Mr. Mendez to find someone to cover my next shift if I have to," she added, turning to lead Yves down the corridor. "Let's go to your quarters and get Fidele first, okay, Yves?" Yves hesitated, watching his papa with wide eyes, but Jean-Luc smiled and waved him off. He turned and ran after his favorite babysitter.

He blew into sickbay, angry as hell that the doctor hadn't forced a comm call through the do-not-disturb. When he saw her on the biobed all that vanished. Mengis returned to main sickbay, holding an instrument in his hand, and altered course to come to him, put a hand on his shoulder, guide him over to where Deanna lay quiet with closed eyes.

"I finally got her to come in when she feels a little too overwhelmed with the emotional climate," Mengis said quietly. "I gave her a sedative and kept her for observation. The babies are fine. I don't like the way her placenta looks -- it's thinner than it should be. I waited until you got here to consider removing the fetuses to the incubator."

Likely to keep her from becoming an emotional mess without support. "You said we would do that in two weeks."

"Yes, but -- "

"Can she wait two weeks without hurting herself or the children?"

"Possibly. But -- "

"Will it have an impact on their growth, removing them early?"

Mengis looked disapproving, a little frustrated, but heaved a deep sigh and dropped his gaze. "I understand that she feels reluctance -- "

"You understand very little. You don't see -- " Jean-Luc put his hands to his face, covered his eyes for a moment, then let them drop. "It's her decision, Gregory. If you need to hear it from her, wake her up."

Mengis stared at Deanna for a moment. "I'll be in my office if you need me." He turned and strode off, disappearing into the far end of sickbay.

Jean-Luc went to get a chair and hauled it to the head of the bed. He put a hand on Deanna's forehead, smoothing her hair unnecessarily, and the minute frown on her lips eased. He reached and laid his left hand on her belly, and felt the firm mound of pregnancy through the layers of uniform. After a few moments he stepped back and sat down to wait. He contacted the bridge, checked in, and informed Mendez that he should contact him directly if there were any changes or if anything appeared on sensors. He removed the block on his comm badge and leaned, took her hand, and settled back in the chair, holding her limp hand in his gently.

Beverly arrived half an hour later, with Tom at her side. The frowns of concern matched his. "How is she?" Beverly exclaimed, rushing to the other side of the bed.

"She's fine. Resting. The tension is too much for her. I suspect we'll be getting through the next weeks with her on inhibitor."

"But she said she was already taking it! Jean-Luc, how could the two of you have decided that this was a good idea?" She studied Deanna's face in dismay.

"We agreed that it wasn't."

"Why? Why did you let her do this? She doesn't need to be pregnant! It was hard enough for her to have Amy." Beverly clearly was beyond upset about this; she started to stroke Deanna's hair, leaning in as if it would help her to be closer to her friend.

"Same as always," Tom muttered. "He loves her more than he loves sanity."

Beverly straightened, her lips pressed into a line, her fine, groomed eyebrows climbing. She looked at Tom, at Jean-Luc, and her eyes followed his arm to where he still held Deanna's hand. Her anger broke -- she looked again at Deanna's face, her eyes starting to glimmer suspiciously.

"I am in a constant state of revisiting retirement," Jean-Luc said softly. "But regardless of how much I want to make anything easier for her, it remains that I have no real control in the matter. In some things she accepts compromises only when there is no other way."

"I suppose Beverly will be arguing for what's best for Deanna for hours, but I think Dee has other ideas." Tom walked around Beverly and leaned to kiss Deanna's forehead. "Hang in there, sweetheart."

"Stop kissing my wife," Jean-Luc complained mildly.

"Sorry, couldn't help it." Tom sighed, crossing his arms. "You know there's about nineteen captains having a session with their counselor trying to stop daydreaming about her."

"Bullshit," Jean-Luc murmured. "More like they are daydreaming about me getting court-martialed."

"What are you talking about?" Beverly exclaimed.

"The briefing was a little tense. Dee had to walk in some information, and now I have Kelvin Graves questioning my sanity," Jean-Luc said. "I invited him to dinner tonight, not that we're having it now."

As if responding to what he said, Deanna's fingers tightened around his, and then she was moving to sit up. He was out of the chair and ready to stabilize her as she slowly came upright, letting her feet fall off the bed and hunching over as if in pain. 

"Doctor," he called, and Mengis was there almost at once. 

"I'm fine," Deanna said while watching the doctor check readings and change a few things to re-check. 

"You are, at the moment. How much have you eaten today?"

"I had breakfast, lunch, and I ate something mid afternoon."

"And how much of that stayed down?"

She glared at him.

"Right. Lieutenant!"

Jean-Luc had wondered where Soares had gotten to; the nurse came around from the lab Mengis had had set up in main sickbay, several partitions away but clearly within bellowing range. She brought a tray of hypos and implements as she came. Tom edged out of the way, and Jean-Luc joined him standing apart from the fray as Beverly immersed herself in the situation.

"She's really worried," Tom murmured. He stuck his thumbs in the waistband of his pants and let his elbows hang.

"You think I'm not," Jean-Luc half-asked. 

In the end, medications were administered, and Deanna walked with him out of sickbay, with their friends coming along. 

"I'll be fine," Deanna repeated.

Jean-Luc stopped in his tracks and raised his head, and stood waiting. She stopped within three steps, turning, her delayed reaction proving that she had been given inhibitor. She glared at him. Tom and Beverly waited, neither one looking happy.

"I'm taking the medications, he's given me a higher dose of inhibitor. It doesn't block everything. I'm going to eat as much as I can at dinner. He gave me something for the nausea. I will be as functional as I can."

"This isn't the time to be half there on duty," Jean-Luc exclaimed. "I expect accurate responses, not pretending everything is normal and neglecting yourself."

"Yes, sir," she replied firmly. Behind her, to the right, Beverly looked positively scandalized.

"It's almost the end of the shift. I'm going to visit the bridge. The children are already with Natalia for the evening. Do you feel up to attending the dinner?"

Silently, he wished she would say no. She looked him in the eye, and for a moment he thought he was going to get the stiff reassurance his first officer had been giving him every day for weeks. "I don't think I will. The medication is making me tired. He didn't say he wanted to sedate me, but I'm beginning to think he did."

"I'll postpone it, then. If the two of you want to stay, see her home -- "

"Yes," Beverly put in sternly. 

He left them to walk on with Deanna and got in a lift for the bridge, where deLio turned from tactical to announce that Captain Graves had beamed aboard. 

"I'd like you to contact everyone else on the list I gave you, deLio, and let them know dinner has been postponed to tomorrow evening if we aren't pre-empted by the arrival of the alien fleet. I'll meet Captain Graves in the transporter room and let him know in person."

"Yes, sir." deLio gazed at him with a little more intensity than usual. "Is the commander all right?"

"As much as she can be. She'll be on duty tomorrow."

"My family and I would like to see her, if possible. To convey our well wishes."

This was, Jean-Luc thought, one of those things the L'norim culture must see as important. Deanna had mentioned two such visits since the pregnancy became publicly known. "I will have her contact you with a time she finds acceptable."

"Thank you, sir."

When Jean-Luc strolled into transporter room two, he put on a friendly smile. "I wanted to talk to you before the dinner, so I came a little early," Kelvin exclaimed. "I hope you don't mind."

"Not at all. But I had to postpone the dinner -- we can go to the ready room."

Once there, Kelvin accepted the offer of a beverage, and chose an Irish stout -- of course, anything out of the replicator was synthehol, and Jean-Luc chose a lager for himself. They settled on the sofa, and Kelvin's attention went to the frame sitting on  an end table in the corner. 

"You weren't kidding," he said, staring at the picture of Yves cuddling his little sister, both of them grinning.

"Yves and Amy."

"Jack must be rolling around in his grave right about now," Kelvin muttered. "He told me once you were one of those loner types. Never letting anyone stick to you, to slow you down."

"Sometimes we loners get lucky, and someone teaches us how to appreciate the finer things in life."

Kelvin appraised him silently for a moment and sipped his stout. "Not bad for fake beer."

"We try. What were you wanting to discuss?"

"Well, I did a little research since the end of the meeting. I think I gave you the impression that I was casting judgment, before."

"And now that you've checked up on me?"

"Six years, with her?"

"About that, yes."

Kelvin did a little more thinking and drinking. This hadn't changed, about him. Where some would fill the silence with chatter, Kel had always been quiet. "She's pretty."

"And I'm driving around in a garbage scow."

A peal of rolling, booming laughter at that. "There you are. Still cocky as hell."

"I'm almost thinking you need to be taken down a peg or two, except I'm still not certain what you're up to."

Kel's smile lingered as he considered him further. "It caught me off guard, Jean-Luc. You were always about the mission, and you never allowed for a distraction. Never allowed anyone on board to get so close as all that -- you could be abrupt with Jack. I remember when he brought his son aboard, that time, for a tour -- you wouldn't stay in the same room with the kid."

"That kid was an ensign on the _Enterprise_  for a while. Wesley visits, every once in a while. Jack would be proud of him."

The smile was gone now. 

"We're not having a large group for dinner as planned, but why don't you come down and meet Dee? She's with Beverly at the moment."

They recycled the drinks and went to deck eight, and Jean-Luc hoped that Tom wasn't being a lunatic to try cheering Dee up -- he found that all was quiet, Tom was putting glasses of tea and water on the table to go with the plates of food. He came about and sized up Kelvin with a look.

"You know Tom Glendenning," Jean-Luc said.

"Kelvin Graves," Tom said, holding out a hand. Kel gripped it firmly and glanced around, stopping to look at the frame over the couch. It was a picture of Deanna holding Yves, smiling happily as she stood in front of the chateau with a blooming lilac bush leaning into the frame. 

"You've let them escape, haven't you?" Jean-Luc asked.

"They had a bit of an emergency. Dee's still got that upset stomach going on," Tom said. "I didn't know you knew Kelvin."

"We were on the _Stargazer_  -- he was promoted to second officer, somewhere along the way." Jean-Luc went to the replicator. 

He had provided more stout, a porter for Tom, and gotten himself the replicator's version of Picard Merlot by the time Deanna returned. She had changed into a blue house dress, let her hair down, and was barefoot -- it was enough to make him think about shooing them all out to leave them alone, but she smiled at him warmly in response to the way he felt, and he introduced her to Kelvin without providing background.

"You served with him aboard the _Stargazer_. It's nice to meet you, Captain," she said. "Would you like to join us?"

"I was explaining that we'd cancelled the dinner, but I haven't seen Kel in a long time, and since we were having Tom and Beverly in anyway...." Jean-Luc stopped talking when the bedroom door opened again. 

When Beverly saw Kel, she beamed at him and came to throw her arms around his neck. "Kel!" 

Jean-Luc sighed at the shocked look on Tom's face. Deanna took Tom's arm. "It's all right," she whispered. "He's just a friend."

"Right."

The first fifteen minutes of dinner were Beverly and Kel reconnecting, and then she told him about Tom, and being CMO aboard the _Venture_ , and he went quiet for a minute.

"Kelvin Andrew, you stop that," Beverly exclaimed. "There's nothing inappropriate going on."

"I'm trying to process this new information. That's all. Clearly I've been out of touch with Starfleet trends, and this one is one of the more...."

"Unanticipated. Unsettling." Deanna ladled more soup into her mouth, valiantly trying for the sake of the twins.

"So much for inhibitor?" Beverly exclaimed.

"She'd be providing a census of the Klingon Empire, if she weren't on inhibitor," Jean-Luc said. "How's Lieutenant Canby today?"

"Hungry."

"Why are you concerned about Lieutenant Canby?" Tom asked.

"We're not -- he's assigned in a part of the ship that's about as far as you can get from our quarters, without being in an EVA suit, and so I'll have to tell Greg that we need something stronger if -- where the hell do you think you're going?"

"Amy's upset." Deanna put her napkin on the table with her spoon, but Beverly had seated herself on Deanna's left, and put a hand on her shoulder to keep her from standing up.

"How upset?"

"About halfway to a NoNo, I think. Natalia's anxiety is rising, and Yves is crying."

"I'll go." Jean-Luc gave Tom a look. 

"If Beverly can't make her sit here, I'll give her the Vulcan neck pinch," Tom said.

"Or something else, since now that she knows your strategy she's too likely to counter it."

Tom snorted as if highly insulted. "As if I don't know how to sneak up on her."

"Kel can help you, perhaps."

"Right here, listening," Deanna exclaimed loudly. The door closed on Tom's incredulous chuckling. Jean-Luc ran for deck eleven, forward, and when Natalia's door opened he was assailed by Amy's shrieking -- she was almost hitting critical mass, shouting 'no' repeatedly with hardly a breath taken. When Nat turned to face him her expression of terror was almost comical -- she held out the bundle to him.

He took her to the table while Natalia turned to hug Yves, who clung to her leg. She'd wriggled around inside the blanket, and writhed with her hands to her face. She lay on her back and stared up at him, hiccuping, giving them a brief interlude while he unwrapped her and tried something else -- crossed her arms, grabbed her feet, pushed her legs until her knees were against her torso and then re-wrapped her in the red blanket, tightly. She whimpered, but the no-nos had stopped for now. 

"I guess the commander is -- "

"Yves, how are you?" Jean-Luc asked, giving Nat a look as he hoisted Amy against his shoulder and held her tightly. 

"Okay," he responded in his tearful, not-okay voice. 

"You haven't seen Maman all day. How about we go home and let Amy stay here with Natalia for a while?"

They waited until it looked like Amy had calmed down, to transition her back to her babysitter. "I'm going to need more lessons in how to do that," Nat said. "I'm sorry we interrupted you."

"It's all right, Nat. Thanks for being willing to babysit. I know it hasn't been easy."

"Has Dr. Mengis made any progress in figuring out how to make it stop?" The underlying desperation in her question would have been comic, had he not been so desperate himself to find that magical solution to Amy's misery.

"He's doing the best he can. See you in a couple of hours."

For the walk home, he carried Yves, though they usually let him walk on his own these days. He clung to Papa's neck and seemed to need the contact. Once home, Jean-Luc put Yves down on his feet and he ran to his mother, kissing the offered cheek as she leaned down with a smile and put her arm around him. He started climbing up, and she helped him into her diminishing lap.

"I'm so glad to see you," she exclaimed. "Did you have fun in school today?" 

Yves noticed then that there was a stranger at the table, sitting across from his Maman, and was completely distracted. 

"That's Captain Graves," Deanna said. "He's one of our friends."

Jean-Luc returned to his chair, and watched his son contemplate the newcomer. "What's your ship's name?" Yves asked. He still had a slight lisp, but one of the caregivers had been helping him with his speech.

Kelvin's eyebrows climbed. "My ship is the _Aristotle_ ," he replied.

"What kind is it?"

"It's an Intrepid class." 

Yves slid off Deanna's lap and ran for his room. 

"Is everything all right?" Beverly asked. 

"Of course. Amy was having a wretched time. I decided Yves needed a break and he's usually well-behaved with company -- what's this?" Yves had brought out a couple of models, and held up one of them for Jean-Luc's inspection.

"Is this it?"

"That's an Intrepid class, yes." 

Yves ran around the table to Kelvin and held up the two models. "Ours is bigger!" 

Kelvin grinned and took the Sovereign class model. "Actually, I think this is bigger than my real ship," he said, holding it up by a nacelle.

Yves laughed at it, and Kel laughed along with him, and before long Yves was involved in a discussion with more of his models as props -- it occurred to Jean-Luc, as Beverly looked on with an amazed expression and nibbled at her dinner that it was perhaps more age-appropriate for Yves to play with the models instead of talk endlessly about the differences between them. But he shared a proud smile with Deanna, and after a while Yves had Tom and Kelvin actually playing with him, as any kid should. 

Later, after everyone had gone, a sleeping Amy retrieved and put to bed, Yves tucked in for the night, and his own night shirt on, Jean-Luc sat in bed reading, waiting for Deanna to come out of the bathroom. When she did he glanced at her, then set aside the book.

"Dee?"

"I heard what you told Mengis, today. Thank you for not letting him remove the twins."

He sighed, taking her hand after she sat on the bed next to him and got under the covers. "We're going to be all right."

But though she smiled at him, it was subdued; there was a deeper angst present, that she hadn't talked about, and the longer she didn't talk about it with him, the more worried he became. He knew it had to do with the incubator and not carrying the twins to term. He knew she understood why it had to happen, but there was something about it that bothered her. 

He reached out an arm, and she came to him, settling in and letting him embrace her again. The bond was there, despite all the inhibitor, but barely perceptible. 

They'd gotten through so much together. He knew this would not be any different, despite his worry and her silence. She could tell he was worried, he knew, so he waited patiently, trying not to push, to stress her any more than she already had been.

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is where the end chapter of Far Afield picks up. So Far Afield, which comes later in the timeline, is a prequel to this story. (We all hate time travel.)

"All that preparation and not even a shot fired," Kelvin exclaimed, pacing around.

They'd set up holodeck one to look like some bar on Risa that Karsden had suggested -- tables and chairs under an awning, on a beach with pale gray sand and cerulean waters lapping gently along the long crescent of land. The holographic waitresses were wearing string bikinis and wandering with trays of drinks. Five of the twenty captains who'd been involved in the blockade were there, still in uniform. They were a mopey bunch.

"I suppose it goes without saying that we should expect the unexpected, in space," Jean-Luc said. He tipped his chair back and plunked a heel on the low adobe wall, then the other. Folding his hands in his lap, he looked out at the cloudless sky.

"All that buildup to nothing -- fucking telepaths," Glover blurted. He picked up his drink and nearly poked himself in the eye with the paper umbrella.

"Aw, I'm fine with it," Glendenning said. He waggled his glass, the ice cubes clinking, and finished off the liquor then cracked it down on the table and slouched back while a blond brought him another, as she was programmed to do. "No repairs, no casualties, and we got to watch Janeway do her little cock-a-whoop strut that she got 'em all home and saved the quadrant into the bargain."

"Fucking Janeway," Glover spat. He plucked the umbrella out and tossed it aside.

"Oh, come on, Bruce," Jean-Luc exclaimed. He hadn't guessed Glover was one of those captains with a thirst for battle, but appearances counted for nothing.

"Jealousy isn't pretty," Shelby said. She wasn't so redolent as the men; she sat with her elbows on the table, arms in front of her, watching them. Her drink had barely been touched. "She's happy to be back. She thought she'd be a hundred years old by the time she got home. Some of her crew died, and the rest almost died a lot of times over the past few years. Of course she's celebrating."

"Brannagh warped out of here so fast you'd think he had transwarp," Kel exclaimed, finally returning to sit next to Jean-Luc. "Didn't even wait to debrief. There's your jealous man."

"You'd think we were all disappointed there wasn't a fight, or something," Glendenning said, tipping a third of his second drink down his throat.

The holodeck door opened and closed, somewhere behind the bar, and a cheery little boy yell preceded the pounding of little boots, and here was Yves dodging between chairs, his dark head visible over the tables. He ran to Jean-Luc and grinned at him.

"No one said anything about kids," Glover exclaimed. He stared at the hand Jean-Luc put on Yves' head. "Is that your son?"

"This is Yves," Jean-Luc replied. "How did you get in here?"

"Nat said you were here. I missed you, Papa."

Dropping his heels to the floor and sitting up, he let Yves climb up in his lap and squeeze into the chair, putting his head on Jean-Luc's shoulder. "I missed you too, _mon petit chou._ " He'd been on the bridge for hours, well past his children's bedtime. It was now the following day and he'd still not been home.

"Did we win, Papa?"

"Win? Tom," Jean-Luc growled, frowning across the table at Glendenning. It had to have come from him. He and Beverly had been the only ones in other than the usual babysitter contingent, and they knew better than to talk ship's business with the kids. He'd made the request explicit, but perhaps had forgotten to tell their friends.

"Sorry, any five year old who can quote the specs of my own ship back at me, I figure he's probably already running things," Tom said, drinking his scotch.

Kel chuckled. "I have to say I'd expect no less of your son, Jean-Luc."

Now that he'd greeted his papa, Yves noticed other people he liked, and slid down to visit them, starting with Shelby. She smiled in a way Jean-Luc doubted any of the others had seen her do, ever, and gave the little boy a hug.

"No, you can't keep him," Jean-Luc said, waving a finger at her.

"Right. As if Deanna would let me," Elisabeth said.

Kel was next on the visitation list, being on the same side of the rectangular table as Shelby. "Can I have a ride?" Yves asked, giving his best little cheeky grin complete with the dimples he'd inherited from his mother.

And there went Kel, out on the beach to run off with a little boy on his shoulders.

"Huh," Glover said, watching the gruff starship captain turn into an airplane while Yves squealed and laughed.

"I miss my kids," Karsden said, speaking up for the first time in a while. He had three empty glasses sitting in front of him.

"How many?" Shelby asked.

"Two. Colby is ten, his sister Cheryl is twelve." The stern, balding man stood up and watched Kel holding up the boy who was clearly pretending to fly.

Glendenning looked up at Karsden. "Lora's almost eleven."

That turned some heads. "You have a kid?" Glover exclaimed.

"Hey, thanks for proving I was justified in not saying anything," Glendenning grumbled. "You have a way of making the usual stuff sound unusual."

Jean-Luc thought about his wife, and wished, and finally a distant response came. The first officer had been on the bridge navigating the fallout of a battle that fizzled after the appearance of _Voyager_ and its small fleet of tag-alongs. Janeway and her telepath, Kes, had negotiated with the Xens-mik already and brought some of them along to inform the larger fleet that had in fact been poised to invade the Romulan Empire. The current task, working with the Romulans and the Xens'mik to solidify the beginnings of an agreement to co-exist, didn't require an entire fleet, so Jean-Luc had released the gathered vessels to patrol more widely and reduce the appearance of mistrust, while retaining forces at a distance from which they could easily be recalled.

Now, Deanna was with Kes, and occupied. When he had wished for her presence she responded, but so did Kes. It perhaps explained the strength of the response. Deanna informed him that she was now aboard _Voyager_ with Batris assessing whether the vessel was ready to traverse the Alpha Quadrant to Earth, and how many parts they would need to replicate. There was also the matter of the Ghakan, the remnants of some civilization that had turned nomadic and joined Janeway on her exodus. Like so many others trying to flee the Randra Alliance, the Federation now had to decide whether to welcome them with open arms, and if so, where to put them. There were, apparently, more than twenty thousand of them.

That she was able to share her thoughts from _Voyager_ impressed him. She'd had such limited range before, for that kind of thing. Usually they had to be in the same room.

"Jean-Luc?"

Karsden had seated himself again, and was looking down the table at him. So was Glover, and Tom was looking over the rim of his glass at him. Two chairs away, Shelby kicked back with a foot in an empty chair and watched him, sipping her fruit-filled concoction.

"Sorry."

"What were you thinking about?" Shelby asked. Her slight smile suggested that she knew. 

"Dee was just telling me _Voyager_ needs a new manifold, and some EPS conduit. Among other things. And that Janeway's daughter is just a little older than ours."

Shelby blinked. "Hold on -- what? Kathryn's actually -- have we accidentally slipped through an anomaly or something?"

"Well, that explains a lot," Glover exclaimed. "You said she was _just an empath._ No wonder you have such an effortlessly-run vessel. Being able to give orders from the holodeck -- "

"I don't need to micromanage everything. I have good officers," Jean-Luc exclaimed stridently, the ire bursting out before he could catch himself. "I have to forward performance reviews to everyone in the fleet, apparently, to get rid of pointless speculation and accusations. And before you label that as a paranoid outburst, think about how many Starfleet officers I deal with on an ongoing basis and how they all manage to feel so entitled to voice their uninformed judgments in my direction. As if I started wearing a fourth pip _yesterday_ and I'm twenty years old and somehow possessed by hormones, so all my decisions are impaired."

He slumped back in the chair again and stared out to sea, while Kelvin waded out into the shallow waves with Yves, both of them having removed their boots.

Shelby snorted. Karsden picked up his glass and chewed his lower lip. "I think it's one of those things," he said.

"It's unusual, sure, to have your wife and kids aboard. I think most of us don't because we don't want them in the line of fire with us." Glover waved at a waitress, pointed at his empty glass. "The fact that she's your officer adds another level of complexity to the equation. I think we probably imagine doing it and -- well, I'm not sure I'd know where to start."

 "And yet some of those in the briefing a few days ago managed to be smarter than that," Shelby said. "Those of us who know you and your first officer know better than to think you've compromised anything. All we have to do is listen to you for an hour or so. Same old Captain Picard. Deanna probably would have gone that direction anyway, if you hadn't decided to give her a ring."

"I'll just sit here, thinking about doctors with command training," Glendenning exclaimed, swirling his drink in his glass idly.

"What are we talking about?" Kelvin asked, returning as they talked and catching Tom's comment. He swung a leg over the wall, then the other, to rejoin them. He took the chair next to Jean-Luc and reached for his drink.

"You tell me how much I've changed, Kel," Jean-Luc exclaimed. "Tell me what I'm doing wrong. Obviously I can't get anything right, can I?"

Kel shook his head and ran a hand over his short hair. "From your tone of voice it sounds like you're taking some things personally. Whether you like it or not, you got yourself a job where your peers have some ideas about how it's done and don't shy away from stating an opinion about it."

"Where's Yves?"

"He's over there in a tidepool. Relax, holodecks don't have sharks, and neither does Risa." Kel stared at him with a curious smile. "That's changed. Kids were more alien to you than aliens were. That kid is like a tiny version of you, with Deanna's hair -- I'm tempted to ask him questions about regulations, I bet he can answer them."

Scuffling noises distracted them. Jean-Luc sat up, and saw Amy's wispy hair, then she came around a chair and ran over on her short legs, holding up her arms. She was wearing one of the bright floral patterned dresses Deanna tended to favor, for her. Kel watched her with wide eyes while she leaned on Jean-Luc's leg and was picked up and held against her father's shoulder. Her appearance had startled everyone.

"This is Amy?" Kel asked, grinning. "I think we've figured out where your hair went!"

Amy grabbed Jean-Luc's nose. He watched her grin as she stood on his thighs and prodded his brow.

"Nat," he called. The lieutenant had to be around, but perhaps she wasn't wanting to intrude on a group of captains. She came around the end of the building and approached as requested.

"Sorry, Yves wouldn't leave me alone about seeing you," she said. "I knew you were busy but I also knew you would be okay with him coming in."

"I'll take them to Guinan if I need someone to sit with them -- you can enjoy your time off before beta shift."

"Thank you, sir." Natalia grinned and left them there. The holodeck door opened and closed a few minutes later.

"That's Walker's niece," Jean-Luc told Kel. "Another good officer."

"And your regular babysitter?"

"Not everyone can keep Amy smiling."

Amy reached for his glass, and he shoved it out of her reach, distracting her from having a fit about being deprived of something she wanted with a tummy tickle.

"Clearly certain things can be learned," Glover said, an uncharacteristic smile brightening his usually-dour face.

Amy plopped down to sit in his lap, flopped against his chest and started chewing on her fingers. It was her usual precursor to a nap, so he let her do it, keeping an arm around her in case she decided to pitch herself to the floor suddenly.

"I think I'm going to talk to my wife," Karsden said. "It may be that I am not thinking everything through all the way. I missed most of this part of the kids' upbringing, due to a five year mission."

"Papa," Amy said quietly.

"You make a cogent argument for families aboard starships," Shelby said. When that got her some interested stares, she blushed a little. "No, that's not what I meant -- it would be fun to have kids around, for those quiet moments when you can borrow one for a while."

"She's not exactly standard issue. There's a likelihood that in the next hour or so, she'll be shrieking 'no' at the top of her lungs and trying to tear her own ears off."

"Which is why handing them back to their parents is a plus," Shelby said.

"If you want to hold her, I think she's asleep now."

They were able to transition her into Shelby's arms without waking her, and then he was able to ask for another drink. Again, he thought about Deanna, and again she responded -- now she was on her way to him, back on the ship, and aware that the children were with him.

"I am impressed with Commander Troi, Jean-Luc, just to be clear," Glover said.

Jean-Luc's drink hovered in front of his mouth, when he hesitated and glanced at the other captain. "Really."

"I heard her over the comm, during the battle. I spoke with her as well, the other day, when she walked me up to your bridge to see you -- she's intelligent and it sounds like she has a lot of respect for you."

"As opposed to deciding she's slept her way to the top?"

"This is really a sore point, for you," Glover exclaimed.

Glendenning snorted again. "Do you know what they do to captains who marry their first officer? First, there's the annual evaluation. Then there was the way the admirals tested them -- there was this concerted effort, to get them to crack under pressure. The admirals don't like it. They want us to deal with every damn thing out here and stay sane. But the most natural thing for a human being to have, a relationship with someone we love, has to get picked apart as if you wouldn't go risking yourself for a good friend. Because it's not as if either of them had this long career of following orders and throwing themselves into danger, over and over, to protect the Federation -- they knew each other already for years, and risked their lives for each other before. It's not as if he's some lieutenant who doesn't know what he's doing. She's a damned psychologist with years of dealing with officers. Fuck if they don't know what they're doing. They just get looked at as if they don't, because everyone decides it's just not possible because no one's done it before. Just like we can't trust the Romulans, even though we have a treaty, and we can't trust the Xindi, or the Cardassians, or the Andorians, or the Klingons, or the Ferengi. Setting aside personal feelings is all we do, all the damned time, until there's a spouse in the mix and we can't?"

"I ought to bring the latest crop of cadets in here and see who wants to have a panic attack when they see the Cardassian," Jean-Luc said. "I have this visceral response to seeing her in the uniform -- I was tortured by a gul, I've seen Cardassian subterfuge and deceit. But I'm doing my damned job. I'm sure the first officer, who was the one who worked me through the trauma of the torture originally as my counselor, is doing her damned job as well. I want to see Brannagh do her job, while pregnant, while the CO is recovering on medical leave."

Glendenning laughed at it, loudly, and Kelvin chuckled. Shelby cuddled the baby and frowned.

"Amy sleeps through her brother reading to the dog, she's fine," Jean-Luc said. 

"The idea of Brannagh pregnant -- now, that would be priceless. Can you imagine -- he already acts like he's got morning sickness all the time," Kelvin said.

The holodeck door sounded off, sighed shut, and a moment later Deanna came around the bar building -- she'd changed into a teal robe and let her hair down. She picked her way over to them, barefoot. Jean-Luc glared at her. 

"Did the doctor tell you he put me on reduced work hours this morning?" she said, ignoring the stares. Shelby smiled up at her as she drew even with her chair and smiled down at her.

"Well, all right, then," he replied amiably. "Going swimming?"

"Do you mind?" 

"Not at all. You might find Yves over near the tide pools."

"I'd ask what you've been talking about, but I can usually tell when you're angry about the way people decide you're crazy."

"Do you think I'm crazy?"

"As if I would allow you near my children if you were," she scoffed, strolling past him. She went to the gate in the wall and sidled through it, starting to remove her robe. She walked toward the water, letting the robe fall on the sand, and it was obvious from her bare buttocks that she wore nothing underneath it.

Now Glover, Karsden and Kel were all staring, a little too avidly. Kel chuckled again. 

"She's never liked to wear suits," Jean-Luc said.

"The caress of the cool water, the attention from the gawkers," Tom said, his eyes darting over at her and returning. He'd seen her do this before, and didn't find it so shocking. "It's easier to be a nudist on Betazed where it's just a part of life."

"You like Betazed, that's right," Jean-Luc commented. 

"Yep. Kelvin ought to come with us."

"Oh, I've been there. I was stationed there for a while."

"You probably toured the Fifth House, then," Tom said. "Deanna's family owns the damned thing."

Jean-Luc watched Deanna swimming lazily in the lagoon while his friends talked about Betazed. She didn't appear to be exhausted, or overwhelmed, something he'd been watching closely for over the past few days. A whimper distracted him, and he turned to see Amy starting to wriggle. 

A more distressed-sounding whimper followed, and Elisabeth started to do what people usually do, back-patting and cooing. 

"Give her a hug. Harder than you think you should."

Elisabeth gave him a dubious look but obeyed. Amy settled down again. 

"What was that about?" Elisabeth asked. 

"It's what you have to do to circumvent Princess NoNo. It doesn't always work."

"Hybrid girls have it hard," Tom said, sounding sympathetic.

Glover was looking at him now across the table, and Jean-Luc raised an eyebrow at him. "Sorry, Jean-Luc. For the bad assumptions."

He waved it off and turned to see what Deanna was up to. "As you can tell, it happens all the time."

Deanna had come up out of the water and was walking away down the beach. It was obvious she was pregnant, now, and she rested her hand on her bulging abdomen as she waded in the surf. Her hair had grown out to just below her shoulder blades.

The holodeck door opened again. It occurred to Jean-Luc that since Deanna was back aboard, that freed up Janeway, and the woman had shown a keen interest in them, claimed to have known them thanks to time travel and wanted to bring her daughter over to see them. It was a good guess. The happy Janeway that came into view looked like she had just gotten in from Earth, wearing a green dress and carrying a child on her hip. A child with black hair, like Chakotay's. 

"You'd think she hadn't been wandering in the Delta Quadrant for more than five years," Glover muttered. "From what she's said about some of the things that happened that's damned strange."

Jean-Luc knew what the others didn't, that Janeway maintained she had had help -- extensive repairs, counseling, medical intervention, even protection -- from the _Enterprise_  and the _Venture,_ and that it would be future versions of themselves doing it. And that had been all she'd said on the matter, other than some personal things about the twins, and understanding how sensitive Deanna was, and that entire conversation had been dropped on them in the middle of the confrontation, just after _Voyager_  appeared to end the conflict before it happened. 

Janeway stopped in front of him, glancing around at the rest of them, and smiled. "I don't think I've ever seen a group of captains like this -- what's the occasion?"

"We're commiserating, of course," Glendenning said. "Cute kid."

"This is Rosalind."

Jean-Luc held up his arms, and Janeway gave her daughter over without hesitation. Rosalind sat in his lap as if she routinely got handed to strangers, and he received the mildly-interested regard of the calmest little girl he'd ever met. "Shakespeare?"

"Yes. It worked for us. She likes you, Jean-Luc. But children tend to, I gather."

"They respond well to the facade I use to draw them in, so I can eat them."

Janeway sat in the empty chair between Kelvin and Shelby. "Amy," she said softly, staring at the sleeping child in Shelby's arms, reaching over to smooth Amy's flyway auburn hair.

Rosalind giggled when Jean-Luc poked her nose. "Anyone have any salt? She looks too sweet for my taste."

It won him a heavy sigh, from Janeway. "What are you drinking?"

"It's not the drink, it's the way he gets when he's cranky," Tom said.

Jean-Luc glared at Tom.

Amy woke suddenly with a distressed cry, and it was enough to distract him. He gave Rosalind back, and when Amy wouldn't calm down he excused himself and left everyone in the holodeck to carry her home. It was a long crying session, and Deanna came back from the holodeck to join him in trying to calm her down. The blanket wrap was only briefly effective. It was one of those times that left them tired and grateful when Amy finally went to sleep after crying herself hoarse.

"We're going to have to travel at high warp to get to the appointment, on Betazed," he said, looking down at their daughter sadly.

"I hope they can do something. I don't know how much more of this I can take." Deanna leaned, put her head against his shoulder, and he kissed her temple. "Gregory said the only thing he can do for now is painkillers."

Jean-Luc knew that, as he'd talked to Mengis as well. They tended to take turns visiting sickbay with her, when she had an appointment.

"Come on. We should rest too, while she's sleeping."

Leaving her in the crib, they retreated to the living room and sat together on the couch. He closed his eyes and wondered if he could get away with sleeping until noon the following day.

Deanna's hand slid over his knee, up his thigh, and when she began to rub him through his pants he opened his eyes. She'd let her robe fall aside and lounged naked next to him, looking at him speculatively.

"Really," he said softly. "You're not...."

"I feel all right."

"But -- "

"Come on," she murmured, standing and picking up the robe. Deanna led him by the hand to the bedroom, tossed the robe over the back of the chair at the dressing table, and turned to work on removing his uniform.

"I don't think...."

Deanna let his jacket fall to the floor and put her hands on his chest. "It's been weeks, and I don't have to have you inside me to make you happy, do I?"

"I suppose not. But -- "

"Off with the pants. On the bed."

Having her mouth on him, making him remember how good she was at this, led to an advanced state of bliss that she seemed to enjoy as much as he did. She shifted around to roll them up in the covers and drape herself along his left side, caressing his chest.

"I've decided to keep you," he whispered.

"Thank goodness, I was beginning to worry that I'd never achieve that," she said with a giggle. "Marriage just didn't do it for me."

"Have you figured out Janeway yet?"

Deanna sighed, the exhale tickling his chest hair. "I still haven't completely figured _you_ out."

"You know what I mean."

"There's nothing I've sensed that contradicts her story. She continues to feel great affection, for you, for the children. But she feels a bit sad looking at Yves. Like she misses someone."

"Someone Yves reminds her of?"

"If what she said is true, and I don't see why it wouldn't be, she met a future version of us. So she knows an older version of Yves, whom she loves."

"Hm."

"I told her she could come to dinner, her and Chakotay and their daughter."

"I suppose we should get up, then, and be ready for company."

"In a minute. My back hurts."

He ran a hand down her back, pushing with his thumb and forefinger. "Here?"

"The next pressure point down."

"You should have said," he scolded, pushing on either side of her vertebrae.

"It didn't hurt until after. And even if it did, it doesn't hurt so much."

"Dee, I realize you want to be the excellent officer you are, but this pregnancy is a joint effort, and I'm not going to be an ogre to any of my officers -- you can tell me and I will do my best not to get soft on you. I want to help you."

She sighed, and felt heavy against him.

"It feels like you are pushing me away. I miss you. It's nothing like when you had Yves, and I was hoping...."

"You didn't want to see me in pain, exhausted all the time, as it was with Amy. You thought that the incubator would save me from the pain." She moaned as he put more pressure into his fingers, and slowly eased off. "That's better now, thank you."

"It's just a different kind of pain, isn't it?" He put his arms around her and groaned, his hand sliding up her back. "And you shut me out so I can focus on the mission?"

"You're smart about these things now." She was smiling, and then he started to feel what he'd missed -- she let go, started to open herself to him again, and he took a deep breath and they floated together for a while. He usually didn't detect when she sensed others, but for some reason, when she detected Yves coming home with Tom, he knew. They sat up together, and then he felt the twinge in her back, too.

"Told you it wasn't much," she said, leaving him on the bed. "Don't think we need uniforms." 

"Don't shut me out any more." He followed her in for a sonic shower, letting her walk through it before taking his turn. She was there with clothing for him when he was done, and watched him put it on. 

"I don't think that's a good idea. I get distracted by you, and I know it would distract you as well, if we were mentally connected in a conscious way at all times."

"That's not what I mean. I can tell, you haven't been talking to me about everything." He straightened his shirt, after pulling it over his head, and noticed her expression had changed from concern to woe. He touched her shoulder.

"That's what I'm seeing. Deanna, what is it?"

"I haven't said anything because I don't have the words. It -- it's just when I think about giving them up -- "

"We aren't giving them away," he whispered. "They'll be with us. They're our children."

"They're part of me," she grated in an anguished manner he'd never heard her use before. Her hands were wringing the front of her blouse into a wrinkled mess. "It feels -- wrong, and I can't rationalize that away. I feel it in my bones, it's wrong, to just -- "

Jean-Luc heard the annunciator distantly, but the crying woman in his arms took precedence. "Computer, let them in," he muttered, running his fingers through the long curls hanging down her back. He bit back reassurances that would feel meaningless, to her. This wasn't a matter of thinking it through. It couldn't be approached in a rational manner, obviously, because she knew as well as he that the doctor insisted the incubator was necessary, and all the reasons why. Which left him with the realm of the emotional -- somewhere she'd been instrumental in teaching him the way, and now she was having the difficulty, so he had to now step into her realm of expertise and attempt to help her through it.

She subsided in a few minutes, regained control, and he watched her go to the sink and start to wash her face. "I'll go see about Tom," he said, heading out through the bedroom.

Tom was watching Yves hug Fidele, who had patiently waited in the boy's bedroom all day. When Tom saw Jean-Luc's face the relaxed, happy expression vanished. His blue eyes shifted toward the bedroom door.

"She's just washing her face," Jean-Luc said, trying to relax himself and smile a little. "Amy finally dropped off and we were trying to rest a little."

Comprehension replaced concern. "Yeah, that kid -- I sure hope that changes soon."

"Oh, yes. I'd rather be in battle than listening to her be in that kind of pain."

"So, Janeway's coming to dinner?"

"I'm having Guinan in to sit with the kids, and we'll be on deck two. Easier for everyone, I think."

"Okay. Lora will love that -- she's all over the toddlers, helps in the nursery if she can," Tom said. He seemed on the verge of saying something else but hesitated.

"Tom?"

"Nothing. See you in a couple hours." Tom headed for the door. "Got to check on repairs."

Deanna emerged smiling, and kissed his cheek. "We have a little time before they get here. Let's play with Yves for a bit?"

Jean-Luc nodded, turning to watch their ecstatic boy racing to get one of his favorite games. They would take any opportunity they were given.


	6. Chapter 6

Jean-Luc made his way to sickbay, feeling the sort of dread he usually only felt whenever there was a serious likelihood that someone would die before the end of the mission. 

Last night, Tom and Beverly had been cordial, but not so outgoing as usual, due to the presence of Janeway. It was awkward -- continually, there would be hesitations in Janeway's responses to them, and it made for an odd effect that set their other guests on edge. Finally Jean-Luc had told them about Janeway's assertion that time travel had made it possible for her to get back, and that she was probably trying not to tell them things that would compromise the timeline. Janeway had been so relieved that he'd told them that she'd hugged him -- not quite what anyone had expected, he thought.

And through it all, Deanna had been too quiet. Too sad. She'd tried, valiantly, and finally excused herself, leaving Jean-Luc to quietly explain that tomorrow was the day and it would be monumentally difficult -- Dee would probably rather engage in hand-to-hand combat with an endless stream of Asili than give up the twins this early in the pregnancy.

He hadn't told any of them what time the appointment was, or given them details, but as he left the lift and approached sickbay, he saw Tom and Beverly waiting, both with crossed arms. He gave them a scolding look, but neither of them budged, and Tom shook his head slowly.

"She's not going to allow you in with her."

"Then we'll stand out here," Beverly said, in that ringing tone of indignation that she used when she absolutely would not let tractor beams, fleet admirals, or black holes deter her from what she had decided to do.

"Where is she?" Tom asked. His anxiety was atypical; usually, the more anxious he was, the more irreverent he got. But he was glancing up and down the corridor and looking at Jean-Luc as if he'd be holding him accountable if anything had happened to her.

"Computer, location of Deanna Troi." Belatedly, he realized he hadn't used her rank -- how automatically he switched roles, now. Though he supposed the occasion was that overwhelming that he likely wouldn't be very rational anyway.

"Commander Troi is in sickbay."

They followed him inside, anyway. He didn't complain again. Main sickbay was empty. He bore left, past the first and second partitions into the intensive care ward. Gregory was the only medical staff present; he soberly watched them come in, not commenting on the additional guests. He turned to Deanna, lying on the biobed, and as Jean-Luc approached he noticed how relaxed she was. She was looking at him through her eyelashes, already crying, and he took her hand without hesitation.

Beverly came around the bed and gazed at Gregory as if about to challenge him -- Deanna made a sound, almost disapproving, and both doctors looked down at her. "Now," she whispered. The implicit permission to have the extra visitors along was, apparently, enough. 

It was a short procedure. Almost anti-climactic, transporting the twins into a gleaming silver cylinder standing on a broad base -- panels and monitors showed life signs, and Mengis absorbed himself in checking them over. Beverly was saying something that didn't register for Jean-Luc. He watched her face. She kept her eyes closed, mostly, but he could see them moving under her lids. Her eyelashes were wet. His hand moved without his conscious bidding and he brushed away a tear with his thumb.

"Home," she gasped, in a tear-filled voice.

"Do you want to see the -- " Beverly didn't get to finish the sentence.

Deanna lunged from the bed. Jean-Luc caught her out of reflex, and held her out of surprised reflex when she tried to push him out of the way. 

"I need her on the bed," Mengis said firmly. But now she was clinging to Jean-Luc, as if letting go would be the end of everything, and he settled for a tricorder and injected her. He explained what the compound was for, but it was lost on Jean-Luc, who waited for her to recover enough to be calm.

Tom had been hanging back out of Jean-Luc's line of sight. Surprising, that he stayed, and his expression was odd -- he appeared to be trying not to cry. He actually reached for her, and his hand hovered briefly before it made contact with her right shoulder. 

Her entire body shuddered -- Jean-Luc felt it, against his own, as she hid her face against his shoulder and her arms tightened around him, one around his ribs and the other around his neck. His eyes met Tom's, and he wanted to ask -- something. Words completely failed him.

"Computer," Tom said, in a ragged voice. "Initiate site to site transport, Captain Picard and Commander Troi, to their quarters."

Just before the transporter beam dissolved them, Jean-Luc heard Janeway's voice. They materialized in the living room, and Deanna continued to cling to him but he heard her breathing change. After a short eternity, she loosened her arms, and he stepped away just enough to look at her face. It was enough to confirm for him that the steps he had taken, to have the children in Guinan's care until further notice and the senior officers ready to mind the bridge for the duration while Tom and Janeway and Kelvin managed the Romulans and the Xens'mik, were the correct choices to make.

He picked her up and put her in bed, and got the hair brush. She was placid enough, sitting up while he brushed out her hair and braided it, but said nothing, keeping her eyes closed. She curled up on her side, when he was done, and said nothing at all. He locked out the annunciator and instructed the computer to notify him only if there was a red alert, and sat in bed next to her, waiting, holding her hand, staring up at the stars. Occasionally he started to think about what this reminded him of -- the times she had done the same for him, especially over the last year, the nightmares and the depression he'd felt, the times he had hallucinated the K'Korll. And the dark time after they'd rescued him from the Borg, when she had rescued him from himself. 

But, he knew that dwelling on them would make it worse. So he thought about them, let himself feel remembered emotions briefly, to let her know he knew well enough how dark places were going to be an occasional side trip. And he skipped to the aftermath, when he'd been grateful and relieved, moving on to spend more time in memories associated with happiness. He wandered around in his memories of the wedding, and in the time they'd had with each of the children when nothing had been exploding or falling apart or pursuing them, and they could read books to Yves and sit together with a chess board talking about the next adventure.

He was imagining her laughing at something Tom did, during that one vacation on Betazed with their friends, when he noticed she had opened her eyes and was watching him. When he smiled tentatively, so did she.

{Thank you, Jean-Fish.}

"I have a box of chocolates. Been looking for someone to share it with." Jean-Luc reached for the box on the night stand and showed it to her. She took one, chewing it slowly.

It was slow going. She would start to think about it, he could see the pinched look in her face, and he started imagining a vacation, holding Amy in his arms for the first time, one of the memories of their first months together and how satisfied he'd been, having her with him. Her eyes would meet his, and she smiled -- a Mona Lisa smile. The pinched look would fade. 

Dr. Mengis overrode the lockout he'd imposed, and checked on her after dinner. With a sedative she made it through the night without waking. In the morning, while she took a shower, Jean-Luc contacted their friends from his desk in the living room, and when she came out for breakfast Tom was there.

"I've got this spare bunch of flowers," he announced the minute the door opened. Deanna stared at the roses and came to accept them without a word. 

Beverly arrived as they were getting coffee, and gave her a hug. A very brief one, and a wavering smile, and Jean-Luc could tell it was killing her not to ask but she instead sat down and gave Tom a kiss on the cheek, and reached for the pastries.

They left after breakfast without fanfare, with a promise to visit later. Deanna watched him set up the three-dimensional chess set solemnly. They were halfway through the game, while he talked about his friend Gary's continued efforts to excavate the city on Zanzibar, when she looked at him in a more intense manner, and he stopped talking.

"How long are you going to do this?"

"Do what?"

She closed her eyes, smiling a little, though there was pain behind it. "I'm not sure how you got them to stop worrying about me, or how you're keeping this up. But you know you can't do it forever."

"No, but when I run out of the good memories you've given me, I can start over again."

The wince was followed by tears, and he came around the table to pull her against him and let her cry. And it satisfied him that she didn't cry for long, and requested tea and a handkerchief. 

"I know that it will take time," he said, coming back from the bedroom with what was left of the box of chocolates. "But this old counselor I had, she taught me that it doesn't have to feel that way forever."

That brought out the first genuine smile he'd seen in a week. Reassuring, though it was a rather teary one.

 


	7. Chapter 7

"What do you mean, she hasn't seen them yet!"

Kel looked at Jean-Luc as if he couldn't believe what he'd heard -- of course, he hadn't the benefit of knowing that the decade aboard the _Enterprise_ as Chief Medical Officer had also led to a closer friendship with Beverly, and that she usually assumed the right to shriek at him when she had a fit of outrage.

"I thought you knew about Betazoids," Jean-Luc said mildly. Having children had proved, conclusively, that his calm made a big difference in the length of a tantrum.

Beverly looked like she might throw the mug she had in her hands at him, across the table. "What the hell are you saying?"

"It's only been three days. Give her time."

They were in the ready room, rather than his quarters, because Tom and Deanna were playing chess and he'd noticed her starting to shut down. Too many people in the room, too close, too worried. Beverly had looked at him as if he'd suggested sitting on the aft nacelle to eat breakfast but gone along with it.

"It's becoming obvious that she's changing, again," he said. He was tired; last night had been the first time Mengis hadn't sedated Deanna, and she'd tossed around until early morning. Jean-Luc had resorted to tactics he'd been using with Amy, holding her tightly, and it helped.

"Changing," Beverly echoed. Kel was looking down at his coffee, clearly not comfortable with trying to participate in the conversation.

"She's starting to show signs of being telepathic. Greg has been adjusting the meds, took her off inhibitor, we're trying to help her stabilize and he's working on balancing her hormones now that she isn't pregnant. The empathy is settling down, but she's starting to be able to read thoughts. Last night I woke up to her having trouble understanding why she was dreaming about the engines, in great detail. Our quarters are next to the engineer's. Batris was awake and reading about the next minor refit."

Beverly frowned, thinking. "That doesn't explain to me why a mother isn't spending any time with her children."

"She hasn't had enough time to recover from it, Beverly. Having to leave someone with her at all times should make that obvious. If Tom wasn't punning and trying to beat her at chess, she'd be curled up in a ball and unresponsive."

"Who are you?" she cried, gesturing with her hand. "What have you done with Captain Picard? How do you know that?"

"Betazoids form bonds all the time, and not just what we humans consider bonds. Their sense of proprioception extends to family members. She knows, all the time, where I am, where the children are, on the ship. When we're far away she knows that too. Gestation isn't just a matter of having a baby, it's a matter of imprinting on each other while the nervous system develops. We may as well have removed her legs. She'll go to sickbay when she's ready, and it will be fine, because she isn't the first Betazoid to use an incubator. But she has to recover first. Greg knows, because he's been in contact with specialists, how to help her through it."

It was helping Beverly to understand what was going on was not arbitrary; she nodded and looked chagrined. He was a little surprised she'd gone along with things this long. "I suppose that should be something I already knew, but it's been a long time since I've had Betazoid patients. And she didn't have these kinds of problems while I was aboard."

"You always did this, on missions," Kel said. "You always did your homework, when it was possible."

"That's why you didn't accept Data's offer of help," Beverly said, leaning to put her mug on the coffee table. "She needs someone with a nervous system around to fill in the gap. Like a bandage on a wound. Someone has to be with her, touching her sometimes when she needs it."

"Preferably someone she knows well."

"I suppose it helps that Tom's incredibly worried about his adopted little sister," Beverly said quietly. "So am I. She's never been like this, Jean-Luc. I've seen her cry -- what?"

Jean-Luc wished he could control his expression more, when it came to Deanna. "She's never let you see her really cry."

"I don't like what you are implying," she exclaimed. "She was the counselor and she wouldn't be so repressed as that."

"Ian," he said, raising his tea to his lips.

Beverly sat up straighter. She wasn't remembering it. Then he remembered that it hadn't been her -- it had been Pulaski, treating Deanna. And it became obvious that Deanna had not told her close friend anything about the alien who had become a child, then departed when it became obvious that he was endangering them.

"While you were at Starfleet Medical. It's in her records."

"I don't have the right to access those any more," Beverly said.

"We had a space-faring, non-corporeal entity visit us, by -- it wasn't impregnation per se. He cloned her, became a male fetus, and she called him Ian when he was born. Even in his manifestation as a child he was generating a form of radiation that was impairing ship's operations, and when he understood that he left. She mourns him every year on his birthday."

Kel had an indescribable expression -- he couldn't look at Jean-Luc. Beverly clapped her hand to her mouth in horror. "Oh my God! Oh my God, why, why hasn't she said, oh my God, how -- it's January twenty-seventh, isn't it? She always disappeared -- I thought -- "

"Stop it, now," he said evenly, quietly, and it caught her before she could finish melting down. "Stop reacting to it. She knows I'm talking about it, and she knows you know, because she knows how you feel and she's probably trying not to sob right now."

And Beverly escalated, for a few seconds, into the zone where one goes when realizing at last what it meant to know an empath, which was terribly easy to forget thanks to Deanna's habit of never revealing just how much she knew. And she took a breath and settled down.

"Good girl."

A frown at him, for daring to call her a girl. "She knows you were talking about it," Beverly said, questioning.

"She's an empath with an eidetic memory. If I talk to her about something she knows how I feel as I'm talking about it. If I'm feeling the same, later, and she senses that, she knows I'm thinking about it again. She knows we're talking about her. I can sit here and discuss the way I suffered post-assimilation, and now she knows I threw the Borg into the conversation. If I start listing people I know, she can repeat the list to me later. She knew Kel worked with me before and what ship because there's a unique set of emotions reserved for the _Stargazer_."

"I'm not sure, but I think you might be evolving," Kel said quietly.

Jean-Luc smiled at his old friend. "That started a long time ago. And when I started to meet with the counselor, it accelerated. I'm going to count myself as fortunate that it wasn't delayed until I retired and I wasn't able to fully experience being human."

Kel smirked and glanced at Beverly, who was calming down, still. She was shaking her head though. Her blue eyes darted up to spear him with a sudden intensity. "This is why you were doing that, on the shuttle, on the way back from Kemper's funeral. You're worried because you know what will happen to her when you get old and -- "

"No," he interrupted her furiously. "Not now. Stop that." He thought about Yves, for a minute -- the morning visit when he'd picked up the children from Guinan's and walked them to the daycare, to comfort and reassure them. Yves had held on to him and cried a little. Not the ideal memory, but better than where Beverly had been trying to drag him.

"I'll see you later," Beverly exclaimed, and left the room almost at a run.

Kelvin watched her go silently and sat back on the couch, eyes lidded, thinking. 

"I'm surprised you didn't go with the others to escort _Voyager_  back to Earth," Jean-Luc said at length.

Kelvin came back from his deep thoughts. "She had plenty of escort. I thought I would rather spend a little more time with you. Since we're post-mission, and generally we have a bit of discretion in how we spend the time until the next order comes down through subspace."

"I'm glad we had the chance to work together. Rare, seeing anyone we knew from the old days, given how far and long we're exploring these days."

Kelvin made a face after sipping and put the cup down. "I missed you at my wedding."

"I got the invitation too late -- how is your wife?"

"T'Rella is well enough. She spent a few weeks with me earlier this year, before returning to teach at the Academy annex on Vulcan."

Jean-Luc smiled a little, remembering Sarek -- remembering the extended meld and all the memories and emotions he had endured. "I didn't ask -- we've been caught up in other things. Do you have children?"

"Two. The oldest is fourteen." 

"It's interesting, I wouldn't have expected you with a Vulcan," Jean-Luc said, grinning. "The bond with a Vulcan spouse is intense."

Kelvin smirked at him. "I don't know, seems to me you're in pretty closely with your Betazoid. Can't think of what else would have turned you into what you're being."

"Other than just changing?"

"I suppose," Kelvin said. He sobered, thinking again. "You sound like you're pretty certain Deanna will be all right. Are you as sure as you sound?"

"She will. I always have been, because she had faith that I would, even though I was convinced otherwise. It's only fair to give her the same."

"I saw a few things in your service record that made me wonder, what it was like for her. Last year?"

Jean-Luc thought about Amy's smile, and said nothing, drank tea, put the cup down in front of him. When he looked at Kel again the other man had a serious expression. 

"Okay," Kel said. "Maybe we'll talk some other time about that."

"Yes. I should go check on her."

"And I believe that I will take my ship to the nearest starbase, and give some of my officers a few days of leave. We'll keep in touch, this time."

They rose, and Jean-Luc clasped his friend's hand tightly. "We will. Good to see you, Kel."

When he got to quarters, Jean-Luc found Tom putting chess pieces in a box, and Deanna eating a dish of chocolate ice cream. He smiled at Tom, watched him fold the board and put it away, and said, "Beverly went back to your ship, I believe. She was a bit upset."

"Guess I should go see her, and check in with things over there. See you later, Dee." He shot Deanna a grin as he headed for the door.

Deanna watched him coming to the couch and leaned against him as he sat with his arm around her. "I missed you."

"Things are all right, on the bridge. We're done here -- the Xens'mik fleet is headed back to their space, and a few of them went forward, with _Voyager_ , to Earth. Kelvin is taking his ship to a starbase. We'll be departing in the morning ourselves. Our little girl has a doctor's appointment on Betazed in five days. I haven't sent a message to your mother, yet."

Deanna put the bowl aside, on the end table, and began to cry. He held her until the tears stopped, and she lay in his arms quietly, her nose pressing against his throat. He realized they were sitting in heart fire without any of the usual buildup to it, and tentatively thought about that -- and she responded, with a flood of warmth and her arms sliding up around his neck.

"Different," he said faintly. When she reacted, and he could tell, he tightened his arms. "Don't be afraid."

"I was told I would never be a telepath. I was told hybrids never.... You aren't afraid."

"I enjoy watching you exceed expectations. You can be the strongest telepath in the universe. And a first officer, and a mother."

He knew she was smiling, because her emotions were that clear to him at the moment. Her hair tickled his cheek. "Okay," she whispered. In spite of her uncertainty.

"I have the next mission briefing, if you'd like to see it."

"Yes."


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Autocorrect is playing games with me. If the word choice seems suspect, blame Apple. :P

Jean-Luc made his way to sickbay, and the staff ignored him after a glance to be sure he wasn't showing any distress. Seven days after the twins had been placed in the incubator, and they already knew his routine. His post-lunch visits were usually short, but he came daily. It was an opportunity, not one to revel in, but it wasn't every day one could observe the growth of one's children from early in their gestation.

The intensive care ward was as empty as it had been yesterday, except for Deanna, sitting in front of the incubator in a chair. Their gazes met the instant he came in, and he smiled, and she stood, and they came together without hesitation.

"All right?" he asked. It was the first time she'd come, to his knowledge. 

She stepped back, leaving her arms around his waist but looking him in the eye. "Gregory said I can return to duty tomorrow. He said there would be no restrictions -- I can return to martial arts as well, as long as I take it easy for a week or two."

He glanced at the incubator, and saw that she already had the display on. There would not be a way to look directly at them, but the incubator had a monitor and a full complement of instruments to provide a view into the world of the twins. At the moment, the two of them hovered in the amniotic fluid a few inches from each other, looking small in the space they were given. They were starting to look like little creatures instead of beans, tiny fringes of fingers and toes visible.

"How do you feel?" 

"Good. Thanks to you." Sadness clouded her eyes, but it was nothing like it had been. "Have we reached Betazed?"

"In an hour. We'll have to beam down in an hour and a half, to the University of Betazed Medical Center, for your appointment. Amy's is tomorrow. Well -- in fifteen hours," he amended, trying to get around the difference in the Starfleet schedule and Betazed's daily cycle. "I hope you aren't feeling guilty about the past week."

"A little," she confessed. "It's not bad, though. How did you decide to handle me the way you did?"

Encouraging, that she was talking about things now. Directly addressing what had been happening to her had been too difficult, just yesterday. They had been spending a lot of time together, but not a lot of time talking. He took a moment and determined that the bond was tangible to him, which meant she wasn't blocking him, and she sighed at noticing that he was doing it.

"I didn't have a strategy. It was obvious that if I allowed myself to get caught up in your mood, it would only perpetuate it. Fortunately you've given me quite an arsenal of happy memories to use in the cause." 

"Did you talk to Mother?" she asked softly.

"I didn't tell her we were here. Just that the twins are gestating, without details. She's probably filling both our inboxes with messages at the moment. deLio is looking a bit frazzled, which says a lot about her persistence."

Deanna's grateful smile reassured him. "I should tell you that I'm going to see the counselor."

He blinked. "Why should I know that?"

"Because I don't want the captain to think I'm going to return to duty without seeing to my continued improvement."

"I think the captain knows your husband will make sure you're all right."

She gave him a fond, so-happy-I-can-cry look, and leaned in to kiss him. Just a brush of the lips, but the accompanying emotions made him think about things he preferred not to imagine outside their quarters. It had been, by his reckoning, forty-two days since he'd last ravished her head to toe, and it was pretty clear to both of them how much he'd missed that.

But he was there to visit his children, and there would be time for that. They spent some time looking at the twins, sitting together. After a while Deanna kept looking at him -- he kept catching her head turn, ever so slightly. He caught her eye finally and they stared at each other for a moment. She reached over and turned off the monitor. As they left, she walked apart from him, though she wore a green dress and was clearly off duty.

"Do you still want to name them Cordelia and Jean-Pierre?" she asked in the lift.

"It's how I've been thinking about them. Did you have a different preference?"

"I like those names well enough. Gregory ran a genetic comparison analysis, did he mention it to you?"

"Not yet."

"He said there's a high probability that they won't have the same issues that Amy has been experiencing."

Jean-Luc caught her hand. "That would be such a relief."

They entered their quarters feeling buoyant, hopeful, and he kissed her again, after the door closed. The kiss deepened and when the annunciator sounded he felt like throwing something at whoever it was -- their second officer, she informed him wordlessly, in that way she now had of simply passing him information. She sauntered into the bedroom, starting to pull the dress over her head as she went in, and he turned to the door as it opened to get rid of Mendez as soon as possible.

"I'm sorry to interrupt, sir," Mendez said. "I wanted to talk to you about leave. I'm fielding a lot of requests. The commander usually handles it, and I wasn't sure if she was on duty or not, yet. You mentioned in the meeting that she was doing better and would be back soon?"

"She'll be back on duty tomorrow. Since we're going to be here for a few days, and she'll expect you'll want to take leave, why don't you go ahead and set up leave rotations in half day increments for everyone requesting it, and include yourself in the second wave?"

"Thank you, sir." Mendez smiled. "It'll be good to have her back. I'm glad she's doing better, we've all been worried about her. Mengis had a frown for too long."

After he'd gone, Jean-Luc ran into the bedroom. She had taken the combs from her hair, and stood naked at the end of the bed -- he dove into another kiss without hesitation, letting his hands roam. She eagerly worked on removing his uniform, and he helped, and without so much as an awkward moment they managed to make their way onto the bed. 

It did interesting things to this process, the sudden ability to simultaneously exchange information without words. He thought about not having been with her like this in too long, and wondered what else had changed, and what she would taste like, if it would be different too. So as he thought about that she yearned for his tongue, and he applied it, starting at a nipple -- the way she arched her back and moaned was exquisite, and he couldn't linger long, as it was only making that desire stronger. He knelt between her spread legs and parted her with his fingers, and leaned in to kiss, to lick, and it was similar to what they'd experienced before -- but he almost stopped, surprised by the clarity of the sensations he received from her.

She came twice while he lingered there, teasing and tasting her, and his guess proved true. She tasted like a muskier version of herself. An intense desire to be in her arms brought him out of his leisurely exploration with his tongue and pulled him upward, and he realized that it was her -- she rolled and took him over on his back and kissed him while his hands went into her hair, holding her head as she started working her tongue in his mouth. 

Just as he really, really wanted to be inside her, she managed to slide over him -- he gasped, his eyes coming open and his entire body going rigid. She broke the kiss and smiled wickedly, and began to work her magic, tightening around him like a vise, swiveling her hips, and flooding him with feedback as had usually happened with the bond -- but this was so much clearer and stronger than before. 

He felt the pressure building, until he was certain he was about to come. But she wouldn't let him -- she stopped and gripped him tightly, and he could even feel the minute pulsing of those damnable rings of muscle she was so good at using. The pressure ebbed, and she started again. 

"Please," he gasped, after the third round of torture. She kissed him again, and the impulse came, and he obeyed it -- propelling them back to the left, putting her on her back and thrusting, and it was her impulse, he realized after the fact.

She came along with him, when she finally let him do so, and it felt like they were coming apart. He stayed there, entangled with her, sweaty and hot and panting, and she kissed him again -- they were both crying, they realized.

"What the hell," he gasped, grinning. 

Deanna started to laugh -- that felt wonderful, as well, and he joined her for a few minutes. The laughter ended with a kiss, this time a lazy, less intense one from which they came up for air as she started to feel his weight becoming burdensome.

"We should get ready to go, I think," she said. 

"You shower first. I need to catch my breath."

He joined her in the bathroom as she finished showering, and caught her in a towel. She kissed him and moved away to dry and dress, leaving him to it. There was a moment, as he got out of the shower, when the bond flared again and her indecision reached him -- he decided not to wear a uniform, and it resolved her question. She wore a brilliant blue sarong, when he came back into the bedroom, and handed him a pair of his pants.

"You and the riding pants," he exclaimed, going to put them back in the drawer and get slacks. A white long-sleeved shirt and he was ready to go. 

"It was worth a try."

He checked the time and was surprised to find that it was past the scheduled time of arrival, so he contacted the bridge, to find that they had entered a standard orbit -- he informed Mendez that they were leaving the ship and would return in a few hours, on the way to the transporter room.

 They materialized in the middle of a lawn. White buildings and flower beds, and here and there small groups of people walking to and fro, and not a kiosk or sign in sight. "You went to school here," he said, watching a flock of gaudy pink birds fly over them. He turned and saw that Deanna was staring at a large ten-story building on their right. "Where is the medical center?"

She caught his fingers, and started to walk toward the building.

The foyer was at least three stories tall, cavernous, echoing, with a brilliant light sculpture in the middle of it. Deanna led him to a desk on the left. On the sign over the heads of the three women behind the desk, in six languages, it said "information" -- he understood Standard and Vulcan.

"I have an appointment," she said. "Deanna Troi."

The three women, all dark-eyed and each with long, straight hair the color of wheat, stared at them as if she had spoken in Greek. Deanna glanced at him and back at them, and said it again, in Betazoid.

"Second floor, on the right. Follow the hall to the end," one of them said in perfect Standard. She pointed at a line of turbolifts nearby.

The hall dead-ended at a door. Inside, they found themselves in a waiting room, with a door on the right and a desk in front of them. Deanna went to the desk where a woman with black hair greeted her with a smile, and asked her to have a seat. The room was entirely white, without adornment. Jean-Luc found himself reminded of Q, the stark white room reminiscent of the hazy netherworld the being had pulled him into after he'd been shot long ago.

"Greg didn't tell me the doctor's name," she murmured as they sat together on a small couch. "All I know is that he wanted a neurological exam."

"I think you may have surprised him. Not as much as you surprised me, perhaps."

A sly smile made him hope he still had some of that medication left over from the Phase, for later. Her smile broadened at the thought, which she must have picked up.

"We'll have to reclassify you, Deebird."

"Miss Troi," came the call, from the now-open door. She rose, and he stayed seated. Deanna hesitated and held out her hand.

"Are you sure?"

When she nodded, he went with her, letting her mesh her fingers with his. They were escorted into a lab, and the man turning from a biobed raised both eyebrows at the sight of them. "Good afternoon," he said. "Deanna Troi, I presume."

"Yes. This is my husband, Jean-Luc Picard."

"Your chief medical officer referred you for an in-depth examination, as he has concerns about changes in your neurobiology following the Phase. He didn't mention that you had a bondmate." The man approached them, holding out a hand to Jean-Luc. "I'm Dr. Leral. If you would come this way?" He gestured at Deanna, then at the bed.

"Dr. Mengis didn't discuss with me the particulars of his findings. I hope you don't mind my presence," Jean-Luc said, shaking the Betazoid doctor's hand.

"I assume you are here at her request, or at least with her permission. Your doctor forwarded her records. I was just reviewing them. On the bed, please."

 For the first fifteen minutes, it was just like being in sickbay. The doctor ran all the routine scans, without comment. Then he brought up a new display on the monitor over the bed, and turned to Jean-Luc.

"Think about something she would not know about," he said.

He drew a blank for a moment. Then he went all the way back to his youth, at the Academy, and smiled at the thought of being in one of his classes with a couple of friends.

Dr. Leral asked her something -- Jean-Luc assumed that he had, anyway, as the sentence in Betazoid ended with the appropriate rise in pitch for a question. When she responded, the monitor showed some interesting activity.

Jean-Luc watched the doctor running more tests, assumed he was communicating telepathically with Deanna, and then the doctor turned and looked directly at him. For a moment, Jean-Luc stared back.

{You are not telepathic.}

{No.}

The doctor's eyebrows climbed. He glanced at Deanna, then back at Jean-Luc. "What am I doing?" he asked.

Jean-Luc almost gave him the obvious, flippant answer, but supposed that he must want something else -- he looked at Deanna's face, to find her looking back at him, and the eye contact brought the bond flickering into his awareness.

"Squeezing her thumb?"

The doctor stepped toward the foot of the biobed and raised Deanna's hand, by the thumb. "You appear to be fairly good at this for not being a telepath, you know."

"I'm not certain what this is accomplishing," Jean-Luc confessed at last.

"Your doctor wanted a better understanding of the neurological changes in Deanna. I would like to have a better understanding of both of you. Please switch places?"

Rising to his feet, Jean-Luc watched him help Deanna up. The doctor left the two monitors in place on her temples, and after seeing that Jean-Luc was settled on the biobed, put two more on his forehead. He repeated some of the things he'd already done, then removed the monitors from both of them. He let Jean-Luc leave the bed and pulled over a third chair to sit with them.

"I'd like you to think about when you met him, and then about the more meaningful occurrences in your relationship since then," the doctor told Deanna. "You don't need to tell me anything. I'm monitoring your brain activity while you do this in a more direct manner."

Deanna smiled then. "You're not just a doctor -- you're a neurosurgeon."

"And you're unusual, knowing what that means," Dr. Leral said.

"During my internship here at the University, I knew a neurosurgeon."

The doctor smiled at her. "You knew Rakai, then. There are only two of us, and I believe I would remember you."

It was the first warmth the doctor had shown her, and it made Jean-Luc glare at him. Deanna reached over without looking and cover Jean-Luc's hand with hers. 

"Back to the task at hand," Leral said, his smile diminishing and his professional demeanor returning. For a few moments there was silence while Deanna sat quietly, apparently doing as she was asked. Leral nodded at last.

"Are we done, then?" Jean-Luc said.

"No. I want for you both to think about the same sequence of events. Let her share and think about them with you."

Deanna gripped his hand more tightly, and turned her head -- as their eyes met it felt like it had years ago, when he'd started to make a habit of falling into them, as if navigating the stars in them. He was drawn into memories she had in common with him but that she had never shared directly with him in this fashion, and taken through the long sequence starting with that first meeting with her as counselor -- it reminded him of river rafting, careening along white waves while she guided the raft. He rode through memories of being on away missions with her, from her perspective, and it was odd to see himself shot, or himself as a Borg -- he found himself wondering why she'd thought about some reception when they'd all been in dress uniform, and then there was a few moments of a mission briefing shortly after they'd come aboard the newer incarnation of the _Enterprise_. And, of course, sitting in Ten Forward in that eye-catching dress, with him across the table -- he never would have guessed how nervous she'd been. He remembered her being sad, but calm. And there was the wedding, when she had been incredibly nervous, and he had calmed her down. 

He turned to the doctor when she ended the series of memories and waited, letting himself relax, breathing deeply, withholding questions for Deanna for later. Leral had an interesting expression -- something had surprised him, and while he recovered quickly, Jean-Luc had the distinct impression that the doctor was actually shocked.

"Doctor?" Deanna asked softly, when they'd waited a lot longer than either had expected to.

"I think you may not be aware of how much -- " The doctor appeared to be struggling for words. "Deanna, when do you remember feeling a connection with him?"

"I'm not sure what you mean. We've been friends for a long time. And I'm not sure if you would call the relationship between a captain and -- "

"I mean, when did you become aware that you had an empathic or telepathic connection with him?"

Deanna frowned for a few minutes. "I think that would be six years ago," she said hesitantly.

"If I may share something with you?" The doctor fell silent and looked at her intensely.

"What was that?" Deanna never sounded so alarmed as that. "It felt like -- you were echoing part of one of my memories, of when I was a counselor."

"I believe that was when this bond started. How much do you know about Betazoid bonds?"

Deanna stared at Leral. "Apparently I know much less than I believed. I haven't been able to find much about them, in the literature."

"Neurosurgeons will tell you that bonds are a matter of focus, because that's what we observe to be the case. That you start bonds by focusing on another person more intensely than other people, and end them by letting people become distant. Not having contact with someone for an extended period weakens a bond. In essence, all bonds are the repeated exposure of your neural network to someone else's. The strongest of all will be family, particularly parents to children. Hajira happens when the partners are of a passionate nature to begin with -- it becomes stronger when the female reaches Phase. You focused intensely on him during that time I identified, and there were then several strong memories of other instances that required such focus -- and then you came together, as there is a point at which the focus became mutual. I could tell when that happened when you were sharing the memory. It was, perhaps, not possible for you to notice the bond until well after that point, but I am well-practiced in detecting subtleties, and you have a Betazoid's typical excellent memory that captures nuances that you are perhaps not aware exist in your memory."

"I've been able to meditate and focus to the point that I can recover information I was not aware of, in the moment an event took place. But I don't do it for every memory." Deanna thought for a moment, now frowning actively. "You're saying that hajira began long before I think it did?"

"He should not have been able to speak to me telepathically," Leral said. "You have imprinted far more strongly on him in ways neither of you could recognize. I do not believe that your doctor is correct in his assumption that you became telepathic, suddenly, with the Phase. I believe that you had the potential before and that it was not exercised. You have been in a bond with your husband for long enough, and deliberately practiced and meditated long enough, that this ability is becoming accessible to you. Because it was there all along -- nothing in the Phase would alter telepathic ability, it's entirely a transition of the reproductive system."

"But -- " Deanna was quite disturbed by this. She gaped, lost in thought. Jean-Luc had been amazed, and starting to feel happy about all of this, but she wasn't paying attention to him and wasn't happy from the look on her face, and now it concerned him. And as he thought about it, he decided he might know why.

"Is this something her mother might have missed?" 

Leral now focused on him, with another look of suprise. "I doubt someone other than a neurosurgeon could have detected any indication of this potential. Most assume that hybrids are empaths. I published a study a decade ago that refutes this -- the genetics involved do not represent a dilution of ability, as most Betazoids have historically assumed. Hybrids are simply more variable. Human hybrids often show signs of telepathy in their mid-20s, but unless they put forth the effort they are unlikely to discover this ability and assume they are still empaths. Betazoid neurosurgeons are not widely understood, however, and I don't believe that this has helped. My publication continues to go unrecognized in the larger medical community. Your own doctor cited it in his referral, however, and he has not been the first Starfleet doctor to refer Betazoid officers to me."

"You're saying that I could have -- all this time I was -- " 

Jean-Luc realized only as she covered her face with her hands and hunched forward that he never saw her express such distress in public, and not even the recent removal of the twins had led to such outward expression of misery. He put his hand on her back and watched, waiting, ignoring the doctor.

"I am sorry," Leral said softly. 

Jean-Luc glanced at him. "Our children might have similar variances? Is this something we can -- " 

Deanna sat up straight, and her expression had such a forced calm that it interrupted his focus. "You are saying that it's possible for a bond to end?"

"You may not have spoken with many Betazoids about this. It isn't something we generally articulate. It's more something we share and do. Humans, I have noticed, are better about articulating and documenting everything." Leral looked at the floor, considering his words for a moment. "When humans look at our relationships with each other, they see Betazoid bonds as something in addition to what they understand as a relationship. When we have relationships with each other, it's always telepathic, or empathic, or both. We communicate with words, but not always the spoken word, and not always all in words. That does not change when the other in the relationship is not Betazoid -- it's just that the entire message is not received, in that case. The bonds we have are explicit in ways humans can sometimes experience, but it is usually difficult for them to completely understand them. Bonds are our relationships -- and relationships can end, and they do, and for us it can be quite painful in ways that humans may not understand. Because we communicate directly, from one nervous system to another, the pain is not simply emotional suffering, in the indirect manner of humans, but neurological, in a more direct fashion. Standard is not my best language, am I sufficiently clear?"

"I think so," Jean-Luc said. "Dee?"

She had recovered enough to be less upset. "I'm sorry I became so overwhelmed. Can you tell me, in Betazoid, so I can be sure I understand?"

That led to a lot of discussion that Jean-Luc couldn't understand. At last, she stood, and Leral promised to forward the results to her as well as to Mengis. He shook Jean-Luc's hand again. "It has been an honor to meet you, Captain," Leral said gravely, surprising him. "If you require my assistance again you need only to call."

On the way out of the building, Deanna walked silently beside him, glancing at him occasionally as they went. They were strolling along the walk toward another building before he realized he could have called for beam out as they left the entrance. Stunned, still, he thought. 

"Was what he said in Standard accurate?"

Deanna took his arm as if needing the stability. "I believe he did as well as he could, given the limitations of the language. I just can't -- "

"What is it? What's upsetting you?"

"It occurred to me that Mother may have been treating me as a child all this time not just because I'm her daughter, but because I am -- I have been so child-like. Not having a full range of telepathic abilities can lead to being unconsciously treated like a child, in Betazoid society."

Now he was angry at the thought. But, as usual, when it came to her mother, he held his tongue.

"That can change now," she whispered. "So can we."

"We already have," he added.

Her hands tightened on his arm. He stopped walking and looked at her. He'd thought the sun was bright -- her expression was almost enough to blind him.

"I might not have ever discovered this about myself, if not for you," she said wonderingly. 

"What? You heard what he said -- bonds happen all the time."

She gave him the "I know better" smug smile. "Not like ours. All the surprised stares today, they had to be because of the bond, which is stronger than it was. You shocked him, being able to respond to him. Being able to hear him without his -- to make a non-telepath hear telepathic communication requires a different level of effort. He was able to share a thought with you, without that effort. That was part of what he told me in Betazoid before we left."

"What memory was he talking about? The one he said started the bond?"

But that dimmed her expression, and he regretted asking. She kissed his cheek. "I don't want to talk about it here. Perhaps in bed, after we put the children down for the night."

"Home?"

"Yes. We need to get Amy. She's having difficulty again."

He called the ship, and they were swept away from the University of Betazed to the ship. 


	9. Chapter 9

Jean-Luc walked into the bedroom with tired eyes, tired arms -- Amy had taken a long time to settle, this evening. Yves had wanted another story at least twice. The fact that Deanna had been even more tired than he did not infuse him with hope that anything more would happen that day with her.

And now it was later than he felt good about trying to interest her in anything more than sleep. When he crossed the bedroom, he saw that she already lay in bed, and didn't look at him -- she had a padd in hand and sat up reading it. When he returned and came around to the left side of the bed, he slid under the covers and reached for the book he'd been attempting to read. Then he noticed she'd let the padd fall on her lap, and sat with closed eyes.

"Any time you want to talk," he said.

When he noticed after two pages of his novel that she was staring at him, Jean-Luc closed the book and met her gaze steadily. She had a thoughtful expression. A little sadness glinting in her eyes concerned him.

"You're not going to tell me to talk to you about it," she said, sounding resigned.

"You never force me to talk about anything. Not even when you were the counselor."

She put her padd on her table, settled down on her side with her head on her pillow, looking at him. "You don't ask about things, even things you're curious about."

"Do you want me to ask?"

A subdued smile, at that. 

"The doctor said memories that were important, to the history of our relationship. I expected memories that weren't there, and others that were there surprised me. How did you choose which memories to include?"

Her smile became affectionate. "That isn't the question I thought you would ask. I chose the memories based on their importance to me, ones that changed how I viewed you as a person. You've always been so private. Sometimes you surprised me with what you revealed to us."

"You've surprised me with what you haven't revealed. I've had to play detective at times. Then again, perhaps that's all part of your evil scheme to keep me interested in you?"

Her expression changed -- she narrowed her eyes, and shifted slightly, the covers changing shape over her body. "I do want to keep you interested, but I haven't had a reason to think that you've lost interest. I already told you that there are things I can't share with you."

"I know. You said you would tell me about the memory that he thinks started the bond, however."

"He identified the time I spent trying to help you recover from assimilation. I did focus very intently on you for quite a long period of time. I felt as though you were slipping out of my reach, at times. I spent all my energy each day, for weeks, trying to find a way to help you, sitting with you, trying to get you to talk about anything -- when you started to respond, I had to find a way to help you out of hopelessness. It makes sense to me, that I became connected to you. When you went home to LaBarre I rested, but at the same time, I felt a loss. That feeling faded. When you returned to the ship I was happy to see you feeling so much better, and then we returned to business as usual. I noticed no difference, after, nor was it anything I noticed later, when we were dealing with the aftermath of torture."

"It could have faded away to nothing," he said. "But it must have been there, if what he said is true. Because you did continue to be focused on helping me. Apparently, the bond doesn't care what kind of relationship it really is, just that you are focused on me."

They sat silently for a bit. Then she pushed herself up and sat, the covers bunched around her. He was almost disappointed to see that she wore one of his old uniform shirts. Smiling, she tilted her head and pulled the shirt off, carefully extricating her hair from the collar and throwing it aside. 

"Much better," he said, grinning. "I think I like telepathy."

"I've never needed it when it comes to that sort of thing. I've become quite familiar with your desires."

"Hm. Do you believe that I am familiar enough with yours?"

She laughed a little -- he liked that, as it proved to him that she wasn't blocking him out as she sometimes did when they talked about serious matters. Her laughter sent a shiver down his spine, and her smile led him back to thoughts of less rational pursuits. Since she was sitting close enough, he raised his left hand and traced her aureole with his thumb lightly.

"Perhaps I need more experience in these matters," he murmured.

"Perhaps you were the one who went through the Phase." More amusement lit her face. 

But it didn't go any farther than having her settled against him, with his arm around her and her breast cupped in his hand. Something else was going on, and she wasn't sharing those thoughts yet. 

"It isn't too often that the roles are reversed," he commented after long silence.

"I'm not sure I can talk about it," she said faintly. 

"You can."

A moment of silent contemplation. "Horrible man," she complained softly. 

"I can tell you about my wife," he said, looking up at one of the moons of Betazed, visible in the corner of a viewport. "She can be melancholy, sometimes, imagining that something she did years ago will change how I feel about her."

A muffled sniff, at that. 

"But she's never failed me. She's still here."

"What if she did something that you would disapprove of? That you would yell about?"

Jean-Luc sighed heavily. "You haven't."

"If I had followed best practices as a counselor, I would have had you removed from the _Enterprise_ and hospitalized until you were stable. If you had not recovered I might have lost my license. Instead, I kept you aboard and started a bond that I had no idea was possible for me, without ever knowing it."

He started to laugh, and felt her stiffen against him. "What do you want me to say? Some of the best things in my life happened because of mistakes -- I made more ridiculous ones than you. Yours was motivated by a desire to help me, at least."

A dubious snort, at that. "It was motivated by terror. I couldn't imagine being on the _Enterprise_ without Captain Picard."

It took a few moments to process. Her word choice struck him as odd. He tightened his arm around her, pressing her back against his bare chest. "You were terrified of Will Riker getting a promotion?"

The joke fell flatter than flat, but he'd suspected it would. But he wasn't prepared for the wave of misery she projected then. 

"Dee," he breathed, not sure what he could possibly say. 

"I needed you to be all right," she whispered. "I was so afraid... I never thought you could be suicidal. I needed Captain Picard to be himself again, because if there were things in the universe that could make you want to extinguish yourself it felt like there was no hope for us."

He was almost holding his breath. There had to be something else to this. He waited for more explanation of how this could be reducing her to tears. Nothing came.

"You remember things as if they just happened, don't you?" he said at last. 

"I have a Betazoid's typical excellent memory," she spat, echoing the doctor's statement with bitterness. 

"All right, so you remember our first night together that well?"

She leaned away from him, swiveling her head around to look at him with a wrinkled brow. She seemed speechless. He managed a straight face for less than a minute, and when his facade started to crack she started to smile too. "I knew you couldn't be serious. It wasn't your best effort."

"I remember the occasion fondly enough, just the same," he said, running a hand down her arm. 

Now she had a warm, soft glow about her. Much better than the woe, or the anger. "I remember plenty of occasions fondly."

"There you are, cygne."

She sighed and leaned against him again. "So determined not to let me mope."

"I've put you through enough moping, brooding and depression. I'd much rather see you smiling, if I can manage it."

Deanna nodded. "You've been determined -- I've never had anyone do so much for me. I almost feel -- "

"Loved?"

"Understood. Appreciated."

"Excellent," he sighed against her hair.

"You make me happy in ways I never would have predicted." And, as if that immediately led to thinking about the opposite of being understood, she said, "I have more than a dozen messages from Mother. I haven't listened to any of them. She's worried."

He didn't have to ask. She no doubt sensed her mother's emotions clearly enough. "You need to talk to her," he murmured.

"Jean?"

"She's your mother."

"And you're now her advocate?"

"I'm a former neglectful son, and a father who hopes he never angers his children to the point that they hesitate to respond to his messages."

"Ouch," she complained mildly.

"You have a mother who loves you more than she knows how to express, cygne. Just because I think she's obnoxious, brash, rude -- "

"You realize there is at least one old girlfriend of yours matching that description."

He closed his eyes, stopped breathing for a moment, and exhaled slowly. "Dee."

"I'll talk to Mother tomorrow, all right? After Amy's appointment. I can't face her yet. I need to know -- I can't, until I know Amy will be all right."

"Fair enough."

"What else can you tell me about your wife?"

"Oh," he began, grinning, pulling her closer, "she has a wonderful smile. She has curves, and such smooth skin, and there's a mole on her breast that I like to taste. And I can't begin to describe how she can make me feel...."

"I don't believe you need to." From her tone she was grinning. "She feels the same way about you, I think."

"We're going to be having twins, did I mention that?"

"Mmm. I don't believe you did. You've had other children with this woman?"

He opened his eyes, looked up at the moon again, and smiled. "I did. And I think I would probably do anything for her. Don't tell anyone I said that."

"Something you want to surprise her with, for her birthday?"

"I have a lot of things I'm going to surprise her with."

"Horrible, horrible man," she whispered, giggling quietly.


	10. Chapter 10

Jean-Luc returned from dropping Amy off in the day care, and re-entered Mengis' office without announcing himself. Deanna was already seated across the doctor's desk from their chief medical officer, discussing the results from Amy's appointment with a hybrid specialist. The specialist had actually started treatment, and Amy had been given the first round of genetic modifications to address her digestive issues.

"The modifications have already made a difference. I can tell her stomach is feeling better," Deanna said. She glanced up at Jean-Luc as he sat down on her left, and took his hand. An unusual gesture for her, in front of one of their officers. It meant she was starting to feel stressed, he was certain.

"I'm glad they were able to target the correct sequence so quickly," Gregory said. "Does she have any followup appointments?"

"We'll take her back tomorrow, for a second exam and possibly a second treatment." Deanna smiled at Jean-Luc. "You impressed the doctors."

"Knowing things about what your child needs impresses doctors," Gregory said. "Coming in to ask questions instead of making demands impresses doctors."

Jean-Luc glanced at Deanna, at Gregory, and sighed. "Amy's difficulties will be manageable, apparently. Have you reviewed the report from Dr. Leral?"

Gregory's relaxed smile dwindled. "I have. It becomes obvious that you have been quite subtle in your progression to being a telepath, Deanna."

Deanna shrugged, in that rarely-seen mannerism of hers that indicated high levels of discomfort with a topic. Jean-Luc let his thumb drift across her palm, and tightened his fingers on hers gently.

"I suppose that I have had the same level of experience with treating telepaths as any Starfleet doctor," Gregory continued. "I have yet to experience it myself."

Deanna's head tipped left. "Is that a request?"

Jean-Luc thought about the times he'd melded with Vulcans, and other telepathic interchanges, over the years. He tried not to think of how Deanna had used it lately.

"I'd like to understand it, if I'm not out of bounds in that request," Gregory said. "I suspect that the basic explanation we're given at the Academy, that thoughts are exchanged directly from mind to mind, is not quite all there is to it."

Deanna thought about that and appeared to be studying a small collection of objects the doctor had collected on the corner of his desk. She picked one up, a gray-green rock with veins of paler green crystal in the substrate. "In Standard, to convey an understanding of my experience of this object. This is a rock, more gray than green, with some clearer substance that looks like crystal. It weighs about half a pound, and I think because of the smaller size of it that means there is some denser material in it than is obvious to the naked eye. It feels cool, and there is a mix of rough and smooth surfaces. If I were to explain this to another Betazoid, in Standard but using telepathy.... This is a rock, gray, green, heavy, cool, rough and smooth."

Gregory's head went back slightly as if she'd thrown the rock against his forehead. He stared at her, glanced at Jean-Luc, held out his hand and accepted the rock as she handed it to him. "It was as though you gave me your experience of the rock."

"I did. The words are like anchors to connect the sensations to. I wasn't able to do that before, with humans," she confessed.

"Really?" Mengis' green eyes slid to Jean-Luc.

"Only people I was very familiar with," she said quietly. "I haven't been able to, before, with anyone outside family."

"Vulcan telepathy is quite different," Jean-Luc said, receiving a tight grip on his fingers in thanks, for the diversion from further discussion of her. "There are differences with other telepaths as well, in the experience. I'm remembering the Cairn -- how verbal communication was such a challenge for them."

"I think that some of what Dr. Leral recommends suggests to me that I need to meet with him," Gregory said. His resigned expression said that was not an easy admission to make. Like most doctors Jean-Luc knew, he tended to be confident in his expertise. "However, I want to understand first what a Betazoid neurosurgeon really is. When I made the original referral, I explained to the person with whom I set up the appointment what I was looking for -- I had assumed you would be seen by a neurologist, not a surgeon."

Deanna had a curious expression of chagrin, for a moment, but it was replaced almost immediately with the calm and collected face of Counselor Troi. "Betazoid neurosurgeons are born, then trained. They develop psychokinesis. Their telepathy is focused, precise, extremely limited in range, and they focus almost entirely on maladies afflicting telepaths and those associated with them. Dr. Leral and Dr. Belman are the only two living neurosurgeons at this time. If a mood disorder, such as extreme depression, resists conventional interventions, a neurosurgeon can assess and target specific regions of the brain and resolve the issue in a direct manner -- altering the way the afflicted neurons function using their psychokinetic ability. Their time is very much in demand, as you can guess. Any brain surgery can be completed without shedding a drop of blood."

"He forwarded you his findings, I gather? There is a great deal here to suggest that you are, to put it succinctly, more than gifted. He seemed most impressed by the strength of your bond with your husband. He recommends, for example, that in handling future injuries, for either of you, I need to avoid extended stays in sickbay, or allow the uninjured spouse to move in. There are indications that this would hasten healing, for both of you. It almost suggests that I treat you as a single entity -- I find it simultaneously concerning and reassuring. I've been debating whether allowing either of you to leave sickbay before I believed you should was wise. Apparently following your instinct was the correct thing to do."

Deanna stared at Jean-Luc with surprised eyes. They had developed a habit of leaving sickbay before Gregory wanted them to, simply because neither of them had ever felt comfortable sleeping there. Perhaps there had been a real reason for that, all along.

"I was doing as any Betazoid would do. We always take care of each other when we are ill. Hospitals on Betazed accommodate families for that reason."

Gregory's staccato chuckle always came as a surprise, when it came. "Cultural responsiveness coursework has failed me once again."

"Is there anything else you need to know? We should be going," Jean-Luc said, thinking about what would surely be a trauma-inducing meeting with Lwaxana, and getting it done before the children came out of daycare. He knew Deanna was with him on that; silent, telepathic, grim assent rose to his awareness.

They left the doctor to contact Dr. Leral, and went without a word to each other. Jean-Luc realized he still held her hand as they left the lift. "We should go to her house?" he asked. 

"I think so."

"Should we contact her first?" he asked as they approached the transporter room.

"I already have."

It didn't immediately occur to him what she meant until they rematerialized on the front lawn of Lwaxana's home. "You contacted her telepathically?"

"Yes, why?" Deanna's confusion wrinkled her brow.

"I seem to recall reading that the functional range of a Betazoid's telepathy was perhaps two kilometers. When I said you could be the most powerful telepath in the universe I was kidding, Dee. It wasn't an order."

The door slamming open interrupted Deanna's wide-eyed stare at him. Lwaxana fluttered down the walk, wearing a flowing, shimmering outfit that appeared to be several layers of translucent silver film, and Deanna turned to reciprocate her embrace. Lwaxana stood back and beamed at her daughter. The happiness melted away in moments, however. "You were -- He said you were pregnant," Lwaxana exclaimed brokenly.

"She is," Jean-Luc blurted, stepping forward to put a hand to Deanna's back in support. "The doctor had to put them in an incubator."

Lwaxana put both hands over her mouth in horror. Overreacting, as expected.

"It's all right," he insisted. "They're all right."

"Oh, my poor Little One," she wailed. "Oh, Deanna."

It was too much -- Deanna was already crying, and fighting it, anger in her face as she turned away from her mother. She hated being unable to control her emotions. Jean-Luc caught her in his arms and glared at his mother-in-law. "You don't think she already feels terrible about this? Must you make it worse?"

It was an awkward moment, in a long history of awkward moments with Deanna's mother. He waited for the explosion, the hysteria, the unexpected moment of sobriety -- Lwaxana stared at him, her tears drying on her cheeks. Deanna's arms crept around him and her body was stiff in his arms. He hated this, and knew she wasn't paying any attention to either of them now -- she'd been overwhelmed and was trying to recover herself.

"Deanna," Lwaxana said in the most subdued manner he'd ever heard from the woman.

It was, he decided, a good moment to tell her the basics. Perhaps they could escape shortly. "We're here for doctor's appointments. Amy went in this morning. Deanna saw a neurosurgeon yesterday."

Lwaxana looked horrified again, staggered a step backward, and recovered somewhat. Now she was watching him carefully. "You said she's all right," she managed at last.

"She's overwhelmed, at the moment, with the changes she's been going through. I don't think you realized that she spoke to you telepathically a moment ago while we were still aboard the ship."

"I'm all right," Deanna said quietly as she took a step backward. She smoothed the front of her uniform, a gesture she'd resorted to often when under stress. "Thank you, Jean."

The second embrace with her mother lasted a few moments, and when Lwaxana pulled away again her expression was happy and calm -- she put her hands on the sides of Deanna's head and stared wonderingly at her daughter. "How did this happen, my dear? All these years -- "

And it must have been the moment Deanna proved how telepathic she really was, now, as Lwaxana started to cry. This wasn't the usual weepy sort of crying, either. The moaning and shuddering sobs were hard to hear. It was, Jean-Luc supposed, how he would feel, had he spent more than forty years assuming his child to be limited in some fashion and then realizing that the limitation wasn't as expected.

He headed for the house rather than stand by watching. Lwaxana had rearranged everything, as she had before -- the furniture, the art on the walls -- but the kitchen was in the same place, and the things in it. He got himself something to drink -- Lwaxana had been wily enough to stock some of the things he liked to encourage them to visit, and so there was a teapot and a tin of Earl Grey. So when they came inside at last, he was sitting in the arboretum in the back of the house, half through his second cup of tea, and as they approached the table he poured two more cups of it without delay.

The next twenty minutes proved to be the quietest he'd ever spent in the home of Lwaxana Troi. He knew they were communicating, but did not care that he couldn't hear it. He thought about the next mission, and the three requests they'd received for a ride -- it was common practice for Starfleet personnel to find transport aboard ships of the line that happened to be going their way, to get to and from assignments or to travel on leave, and word traveled fast when the _Enterprise_ came into orbit -- and then he thought about the meetings he had scheduled with cadets over the next few days. The Cardassian cadet was on the list. It would be nearly as much a challenge to keep a straight face speaking with her as it had been with the Ferengi cadet.

"Mother would like to spend time with the children," Deanna said at long last. "And we need to get back -- I have to get things done this afternoon."

"Of course. We can have Natalia bring them down, if you like. She'd enjoy the visit as well."

Lwaxana went so far as to give him a hug after she escorted them outside. As she backed away from them and he contacted the ship, she watched without a word, smiling happily. After they left the transporter room he started to grin.

"You're in a better mood than when we went down," Deanna commented.

"You are as well. Is everything all right with your mother?"

Deanna gave him a wary look. "Yes. It was a little difficult, at first, but you were a great help."

"I'm glad to hear it. It's easy to feel useless among telepaths."

She smiled at a few lieutenants in passing as they walked, and glanced at him as they went into the lift. "I know it's going to change things, for us," she said softly.

Jean-Luc turned to face forward and asked for the bridge. "I can hope that it might be a change for the better."

"We won't be able to use it on duty, I think. At least not often. I can't get into the habit."

"That wouldn't be wise, no." He heard her inhale slowly, and wondered. Her tone of voice suggested doubt. "We'll adjust. We have a long history of managing under stress -- this is just another evolution."

"I suppose it is. And it might come in handy, at times, if I can practice and refine my skills." That was better. She sounded like his first officer again.

The bridge had two people in residence, Edison and one of the ensigns from operations. Deanna followed him into the ready room only briefly -- after a brief discussion of her own schedule for the rest of the day, she left, to meet with Mendez about operations staffing for the cadets who would be on that rotation for the next few weeks.

Jean-Luc got more tea and settled into the comforting routine of the administrative monotony of being a captain -- reviewing reports and the latest changes in crew assignments. The next mission would take them back into the fringes of the Beta Quadrant, and things could be less than routine out there.


	11. Chapter 11

"Any questions?"

The senior officers glanced at each other, then looked back to Jean-Luc without a word. He dismissed them and left the briefing room himself, heading for the ready room as Deanna gave the flight control officer the order to change course, to head for the colony on Pendar Four. He found himself followed through his door by Gregory. 

"Something's up?" he commented, glancing at the doctor, heading for the replicator. 

"Nothing dire. I know you have been coming in each day to see them, but I thought you would want to know the twins are doing quite well -- it's been three weeks since they went in, and they're quite healthy. Deanna may have told you about her visit yesterday?"

"About taking her off the antidepressant? Yes." Jean-Luc put a cup of hot, black coffee on the edge of his desk for the doctor, and sat down with his tea in hand. "I will be bringing Amy tomorrow for her appointment. Deanna has the cadets in class for two hours, tomorrow afternoon."

Gregory ran a thumbnail down his mustache, thinking. He sipped and then leaned back slightly in the chair. "I need some assistance. The Cardassian cadet came in for her physical. I think, if we are to see more Cardassians in service, I would like to establish a line of communication with resources on Cardassia to broaden my depth of knowledge in treating them."

"I don't see an issue with that. What precisely are you needing assistance with?"

"I'm not even certain where to start. The computer tells me there is no unified medical association left on Cardassia -- there was before the war, however, it was clearly one of the casualties along with the government and the Obsidian Order. Rather than attempt direct contact I thought I would ask for suggestions of what to do next."

"I'll appeal to an admiral -- I believe Admiral Ross has been instrumental in the Cardassian recovery effort. He should be able to help us with a logical first step."

"Thank you, sir." Gregory took his coffee with him as he left.

The next twenty minutes were spent opening and answering, or ignoring, messages. Lwaxana had been sending him daily requests for reassurance, and he answered one every other day. Their brief visit had shocked her -- that her only child had become someone else, from her perspective, was rewriting her reality. He knew Deanna had been getting messages as well, but the one Deanna had listened to while he was in the room hadn't had the same pleading tone. Lwaxana sounded like she was afraid. 

Deanna, meanwhile, continued to improve. Random crying spells had decreased. On duty, she'd been making the cadets try to keep up, and the bridge crew were no longer looking worried or asking after her health. Off duty, she made sure the kids were  clean, fed and entertained, and then spent time with him. It would all feel perfectly normal and happy, had he not been catching her with that same pinched look from time to time. Still, he knew she would continue to improve, and hoped that at some point she would be able to articulate what there was left of her suffering.

When the annunciator went off, it caught him off guard. But it was a scheduled appointment, with Cadet Arran, the Cardassian that Gregory had mentioned. He admitted the cadet without delay. "Have a seat, Cadet," he said, when she seemed hesitant in entering the room. 

She sat stiffly in the chair, and answered the usual questions that he asked the cadets in precise sentences. It was not what he expected after reading her application to the Academy, or her latest essay that Deanna had appended to her service record with high marks. She was well-spoken and articulate, and clearly felt strongly about being in Starfleet. 

"Everything looks to be in order," he said at last, cordially, meeting her gaze across his desk. He smiled at her, as politely as he had done throughout, and still she looked like she might want to run from the room at dismissal. "Is there something wrong, Cadet?"

"Sir?" She blinked at him, and her face once again fell into carefully-impassive lines. She was relatively slender, for a Cardassian; many he had seen tended toward a stocky, ungraceful appearance. She wore a modified uniform that accommodated the neck ridges. 

"You may have noticed that I am not a counselor. However, I have the distinct impression that you might be displeased. Perhaps unhappy?"

She stared at some point in the air in front of her, intensely. "No, sir. I -- "

Jean-Luc waited for a few long minutes. 

"Permission to speak freely, sir?"

"Granted."

"I have anticipated meeting you for the past few months -- I intended to speak to you about -- but I was incorrect, in my thinking, and since coming aboard I know that it would be inappropriate to -- I'm sorry, sir. I shouldn't have -- "

"When did you change your name?"

She stared open-mouthed at him. 

"I knew who you were when I reviewed your service record _."_

Again, she couldn't look at him. She looked like she might cry.

"I told him that he should not have allowed you to witness my suffering. No one should, at that age."

"I don't understand how _...._ " 

Turning to the monitor, he brought up the essay she'd written. "'I believe that it is important to put the past aside, and to return to the business of building a peaceful and prosperous society on Cardassia. That we do not need to resort to the same murderous greed that has decimated our civilization, whether it is our greed or the violence of others at work. I know that setting aside the years of hatred and mistrust will take time, but I wish to show the Federation that there are those of us on Cardassia who do not agree with our old military leaders, who sought power as if it were the only way to accomplish great things for our people. I wish to be a Starfleet officer, because it is the patriotic thing to do. Because I believe that peace can be a joint effort, with other races who believe the same.' This does not sound like an essay written by someone I should mistrust. It sounds like something I can agree with."

The cadet blinked again, and again. "You know who I am," she whispered. 

"You are someone who would not expose her children to suffering," he said, nodding. "You agree with me, in principle, and I agree with you. This is Starfleet."

She seemed to be regaining her composure, somewhat. "Thank you, sir."

"My ancestors were conquerors and villains, and barbarians. I'll thank you not to judge me by my lineage, Cadet. It impedes progress. You are dismissed."

She rose and came to attention, then headed for the door. But she halted and appeared to now have difficulty leaving.

"I'm sorry, sir, but -- " She turned to look at him, and though she was dismayed she did it anyway. "How did you know?"

He considered telling her that Deanna had described her to him, a conflicted young woman who kept up a façade of confidence and ignored the slights of prejudiced humans who couldn't put aside their own history with the Cardassians, but felt the guilt -- though she herself had done nothing at all to feel guilty about. Deanna had known how Arran felt when Captain Picard was mentioned -- it took no deduction at all to recall the one Cardassian female of the correct age that would have felt anything like recognition or regret about him. Gul Madred had not succeeded in his goal of humiliating him, by bringing in his own daughter to view the naked suffering of his victim. He had cemented Jean-Luc's opinion of the corrupt nature of Cardassian society, as any people who exposed young children to such torment had been thoroughly bankrupted and nothing Madred could have done would affect him. That there was now a chance for the Cardassians who remained to rise from the ashes of the corruption had impelled him to accept the cadet, where other captains had refused her.

"Come back for tea next week, at the same time, and perhaps I will tell you."

She left in a hurry, and he sighed and turned back to his monitor, to bring up the next cadet's service record.

After the second cadet, a Bolian, had gone, he replicated more tea. Deanna came in and took her usual place, and smiled at him. "It's almost lunch time. I thought we could go to your dining room and then to sickbay to see the twins."

"I suppose eating in the ready room is getting old," he said.

"Cadet Arran seemed upset. I suppose you told her."

"She'll be all right."

Deanna gazed at him for a moment longer, losing the smile.

"What?"

"Just remembering what makes you so unique." Her smile returned.

"If you're ready to go?"

Lunch was as usual, and he ate while thinking about the cadet and her essay. He noticed when Deanna put down her fork and sat silently.

"Dee?"

She turned to look out the wide viewports for a few seconds. "I keep feeling...."

Jean-Luc put a hand on her arm. "How long have you had this... feeling?"

"I woke up last night, feeling as if I were being watched. This morning, during the meeting, I felt it again. It was so odd," she exclaimed, turning back to her plate and starting to tap herself behind the ear.

"Did you check sensors?"

She turned her dark eyes on him. "I didn't think... I thought it must be more of this adjustment I'm making. The other day I had the strangest sensations of my skin crawling."

"Picard to bridge -- status?"

"On course, warp seven, sir."

"Run a sensor sweep -- scan for any abnormalities that might indicate a cloaked ship."

Deanna waited with him for a minute. Edison sounded alarmed when he responded. "Sir, there's an increase in tachyon -- "

"I'm on my way. Drop out of warp, Mr. Edison."

When they got there, the _Enterprise_ was at all stop and the stars were stationary on the main viewscreen. "Run the sweep again, Mr. Edison."

"I think there's about a dozen of them," Deanna said, sitting down at her station.

"Do you recognize the species?"

"It's hard to say. I think so."

Jean-Luc glanced at tactical -- deLio had left Kendall on duty for alpha shift. "Raise the shields. Yellow alert."

While the rest of the senior staff were on the way to the bridge, a ship decloaked in front of them, and Deanna ordered a red alert. The ensuing skirmish didn't last long, and the other ship fled the moment their shields failed. Edison's fingers danced around his console. "Long range scanners are picking up more of them, sir. Now that I have a detailed scan of the ship and its cloak I can detect ten separate signatures."

"Run a check against the sensor logs -- see if you can tell how long these vessels have been following us."

"Kemirite," Deanna said. Her eyes flicked up to meet his. "I should have focused sooner."

Jean-Luc sat down, gazing at his first officer calmly. "I don't like to use crew as if they are tools," he said. "But if you do sense anything again... it seems you have a wider range than before. You saved us time, and repairs, and probably saved lives."

"I'll focus sooner," she said.

"Good." Jean-Luc heard the lift behind them open. "Mr. deLio, we appear to have a fleet of Kemirite ships shadowing us. Mr. Edison?"

"An analysis of the logs shows that we have had at least one vessel tailing us for the past thirty-two hours, sir."

"Since the last starbase," Deanna said.

"Lieutenant, plot a course for Starbase 395 -- warp eight. Mr. deLio, contact the starbase and warn them."

But the starbase was intact, and thanked them for the information. Edison picked up more ships on the sensors, maneuvering to intercept them, and another fight ensued. Within twenty minutes the _Venture_ arrived, responding at high warp to their subspace broadcast to warn all vessels in the area, and the smaller ships were either quickly dispatched or fleeing under the combined firepower of two Sovereign class starships.

When all was said and done, repairs were in order. Jean-Luc left his first officer on the bridge to see to it, and headed for the daycare -- the kids would be anxious.


	12. Chapter 12

Jean-Luc reached the intensive care unit a little late -- he hadn't had lunch, and he was tired, but determined to see the twins. He found Deanna, in uniform, looking terribly uncomfortable sitting in a chair while leaning against the base of the incubator, her arms folded under her head. The monitor was not on, but she didn't need it to be.

He took a seat in the chair next to hers and laid a hand on her shoulder. "Dee," he murmured.

She moaned and rolled her head slightly, but didn't awaken.

"Deanna. Wake up."

She sat up, her makeup smeared, looking exhausted, her hair falling loose from the combs. When she realized where they were, she put her hands to her cheeks. "Oh, I'm so sorry."

"When did you get here? I told you to go take a nap."

"I didn't mean to fall asleep here," she whispered, clearly embarrassed.

He'd told her to go sleep two hours before, after she'd been on the bridge all night and most of the morning. Rather than scold her, he put his arms around her and sat quietly with his wife in his arms. She started to doze again after a minute or two. He was able to touch the panel without disturbing her, so he turned on the monitor and looked up at the twins, now well into the second trimester and growing rapidly. They were about eleven inches long, and from time to time they would move a limb or turn a head.

He lost himself in musing about the current mission -- they'd been speaking to government officials on a world called Mel, when ships arrived and attempted to drive them away. There was now a standoff, as the new aliens for whom they had yet to learn a name, had retreated -- there would be an away team the following day, to resume discussion with the Mella. At the moment they were watching and waiting. Jean-Luc hesitated to send anyone to the planet until they knew more, given the uneasiness he'd felt while on the surface. Something told him all was not as it seemed, and Deanna's sense of things concurred; she had difficulty reading the Mella but sensed that the new aliens were not angry but anxious.

At length Deanna stirred and sat back from him, and looked like she might cry.

"Let's go to our quarters and rest. Mendez will call us if anything happens."

They met few people traversing the corridors to their quarters, fortunately, as they both looked like they'd been awake for a week. He considered leaving her in the bedroom to sleep, but because he was so tired himself, and because they did recover noticeably faster if they spent time together, he took off his boots and stayed with her. It wasn't as though it was a chore, curling up in bed with her.

The annunciator in his quarters must be conspiring with the one in the ready room, he thought angrily, because the minute his hand touched the covers to raise them to climb in with her, it went off. He'd had the same experience in the ready room -- try to sit down at the desk to work, someone showed up at the door. He left the bedroom and stood with crossed arms to admit the at-risk crew member who should have checked with the bridge before bothering him here. Mendez would have steered them away from him, not to him.

Jil Arran stood uncertainly in the open door when it whisked open.

"Cadet," he said, demeanor changing in an instant. "We have an appointment, but I'm afraid I need to reschedule. My apologies -- I forgot to contact you, to do that." Then he took in her expression, and checked himself. "Are you all right?"

"My mother," she blurted.

Jean-Luc considered turning her away, but the three meetings he'd had with the cadet had revealed, slowly, that she was treated well enough but was not close to any of her peers on board, and had only spoken to him in any depth. It was, he reflected, likely that this single cadet's success would be key in determining the future of Cardassians in Starfleet, so he felt obligated to do what he could to help her succeed. She had tentatively started to work with Davidson but, obviously, that relationship with the counselor had yet to be rooted well enough to be her first line of defense for situations like this.

"Come in, Cadet. What about your mother?"

She entered slowly as if anticipating ambush. But the children were at daycare, and it was quiet. It was, he realized, her first visit to his quarters.

"I got a message from my aunt -- my mother is ill," she said. Her posture said she was at a complete loss -- her hands hung at her sides, and her eyes were glimmering with unshed tears.

"Have a seat."

As he was getting her a cup of tea, Deanna came out, pushing pins into her hair as she joined them. "Good afternoon, Cadet."

Jil stared at her as if she'd just dropped out of the ceiling. "Commander Troi!"

Jean-Luc caught her with a hand to her shoulder, before she could pop up from the chair. "As you were."

"Something is wrong?" Deanna went to the replicator.

"I'm sorry to hear about your mother," Jean-Luc said, taking a seat across the table from Jil. He hoped to ground her in the real problem and not engage in a conversation about his relationship with the first officer. "Where is she?"

"On Cardassia Prime. In one of the Federation medical facilities." Her eyes followed Deanna's movement from replicator to the table with a tray holding a tea pot, cups, sugar and cream. "She was in one of the Dominion internment camps and became very sick while there. Some of her internal organs were damaged. She gets sick often now but this is more serious -- my aunt told me that I should come home."

Deanna looked at him soberly, and pushed a cup and saucer toward their guest. "You are likely aware of the current mission, and where we are -- I'm so sorry that your mother is ill. But sending a shuttle on its own, in any direction, is likely to mean the loss of the shuttle with anyone aboard."

Jil looked down into her teacup and nodded slowly.

"We may be able to get a message to her," Jean-Luc said. "It can make a difference to her, knowing that you intend to be there as soon as you possibly can. How does she feel about your being in Starfleet?"

"She's a member of Cardassians for a New World Order," Jil said. "She encouraged me to join Starfleet."

Jean-Luc glanced at Deanna. He'd never heard of this organization, and apparently neither had she. "New World Order?"

"There are several organizations attempting to shape the new government. There are a lot of arguments about what should be done, but over the past few years things have settled into conflict between those who want to return to traditions of our society before the Dominion War, and those who feel that membership in the Federation should enable us to return to more peaceful traditions that predated suspicion, aggressiveness and domination. We hope to elect leaders who are not aggressive, who can find a way to trust that the Federation is not simply helping us to control us."

"I hope that will happen," Jean-Luc said. "It's often been the case that Cardassian representatives I have met were not entirely trusting, or trustworthy. Having had centuries of the same with the Romulans, and still managing to see them join the Federation, gives me hope that we'll maintain a better relationship with the Cardassians as well."

He noticed, out of the corner of his eye, a tightening of Deanna's lips -- something she sensed, perhaps. But when he turned to look at her she smiled pleasantly, the professional version of it.

Jil, meanwhile was regarding him with a look that said she was not certain what to think. "It has been hard to be among humans, among others, because I was taught from birth not to trust anyone -- Cardassians are not always loyal to each other. It's hard for me to feel any trust in anyone other than Mother -- other than family."

"Do you have any other family other than your mother and aunt?" Deanna asked. "I am in a similar situation. I have a few cousins, and my mother."

Jil didn't look at the first officer, and something told Jean-Luc she was uncomfortable with Deanna. "I only have my mother and my father's sister," she said. "My siblings are either dead or part of the movement to restore the military to power. I don't speak with any of them."

"I'm sorry to hear that. I know that family is as important to most Cardassians as it is to most humans. To me."

The cadet winced.

"Cadet?"

"My father and I were very close. He insisted that you -- "

When she could not continue, Jean-Luc did what he had not done before, and took the conversation where Jil had been unable to take it even though they had brushed against their brief shared past several times. "He did not know anything about me, beyond what's in my record. He did not know that I was never part of a Starfleet plan to attack Cardassia, or him, or that I had no deeper agenda beyond following the orders I was given. He did not know that I do not necessarily always agree with my orders, as a person. He did not know that even though we as a people express our love for our families quite differently, humanity as a whole love their children deeply, and that I would sooner hurt myself than to hurt any child. And I expressed to him that it deeply disturbed me that you were present, as he caused pain to others, because to a human child, that would be only slightly less harmful than to cause the child direct harm. We do not teach our children to hate. We do not expose them to pain. When we are adults, with our own sense of right and wrong, we are allowed to experience whatever we wish. Not while we are too young to understand what's in front of us. The commander and I do not expose our children to most of our own crew, let alone the first contacts we make, the battles we fight, or the fullness of the pain either one of experiences when injured in the line of duty."

She gaped at him for a few minutes. "I saw the picture of children on your desk. I thought they were -- I did not realize they were aboard."

"You believed they were grandchildren, as well, no doubt. Many do."

"You -- " She was looking directly at Deanna now. "I never would have known you were -- "

"The captain and I do not allow a lot of crossover between the professional and the personal," she said calmly. "Nor do the officers aboard this ship indulge in gossip. Lower ranks do, but I have been aware that you are not particularly close to your peers."

Jil stared at him again, thinking, her lips pursed. "I was surprised that you were willing to have me aboard your vessel. You reassured me that I would not be judged by my ancestors. But I have been anxious just the same, because I have feared that you would change your mind, if I told you that I was close to my father despite his beliefs."

"That doesn't surprise me. But being close to someone emotionally does not obligate me to agree with them, any more than they are obligated to agree with me, and you can ask my wife about that."

Deanna sighed and gave him a fond look no different than any of the hundreds of times she had done it before. "I'm not certain but you might have heard the saying, agree to disagree. It's how humans often handle disagreements. They don't need to agree on any subject to appreciate, or like, each other. They need only agree that they don't have to fight one another, or prove each other wrong, to co-exist peacefully."

"You are not human," Jil exclaimed, proving she had an excellent grasp of Standard. Not everyone who spoke it as a second language would have heard the third person for what it was.

"No. The commander is Betazoid."

"Oh," she said, turning her eyes to him. Something about this was shocking to her.

 "Why is that surprising?" he asked.

But she looked at the floor and said nothing. Deanna gave him a warning glance, then stood and headed for the bedroom again. "I'll see you in the morning, Cadet."

It was enough to jar her from her introspection. "I didn't mean to offend her," she whispered.

"She wasn't offended. It's surprising to me that you didn't know -- she has the eyes, you know, and I'm fairly certain others talk about her."

"I don't talk to the other cadets often. Usually just about class, or Starfleet. I'm...." Jil raised her eyes and appeared to be afraid of what he would do. "I'm afraid of her. Most of us are."

That surprised him, and made him wonder now what his first officer did with the cadets. "Afraid? Of Commander Troi?"

"Most of us want to stay aboard. Everyone competed to be here for their first tour of duty, and now they want to stay, because it would mean having their pick of positions after spending time on the _Enterprise_. The commander is the one who writes recommendations."

"Ah," he said, nodding. "So you all think that I always take her recommendations. That isn't always the case. While I trust her judgment, sometimes I have a different perspective."

She stared at him, incredulous.

"The thing is, Cadet.... I do not want officers who simply do as they are told. I do not want officers who let me make all the decisions. I have no desire to be the only one on this ship who could possibly save it, go into battle, make critical diplomatic decisions -- my first officer makes decisions that I don't necessarily agree with. However -- missions are successful, and that is what matters. Right now we are here while the second officer is on the bridge. He will contact me when something happens, but until I get there, or if I cannot get there, he will be able to handle things. All of my officers will, if they are so inclined, one day be in charge of their own vessel. So it makes more sense to have people with the same loyalty to Starfleet and the Federation, and strong principles, than to have officers who will never challenge orders from me."

"Isn't that difficult? Having your subordinates question your decisions?"

"The questioning only happens when my decisions are questionable -- when they suspect that I am being influenced by personal limitations, emotions, or personal obligations. The commander questions my decisions when she thinks I'm favoring her, or anyone else."

"This is what we talked about in ethics class," Jil said. "There have been egregious examples of officers who have committed gross insubordination with the knowledge of subordinates, without being questioned. Admiral Leighton and Captain Maxwell were two of the more recent examples."

"And no doubt you know that I addressed Captain Maxwell's violation of the treaty with Cardassia. Did they mention that he was right about the Cardassians amassing arms?"

"Yes. I'm not surprised. The old government trusted no one."

Jean-Luc put his empty cup on the saucer and thought about Deanna, in bed, waiting. "Do you trust me?"

Jil Arran looked at him across the table with an unreadable but calm expression.

"You were trained to mistrust -- you don't trust the commander, because she is Betazoid. Your instinct has probably been screaming at you to go home since you came to the Academy. You remain in service but aloof from people, except for me. I suppose it's possible that you've been coming to meet with me because you believe that I was ordering you to, not inviting you. But if you truly wish to accomplish the goal of changing how your people view the Federation, you'll have to start a little closer to home. You'll have to start having real relationships with people here, on our vessel. I think that I can trust you -- I have been. So in a week, at our usual time, I'll wait for you to accept my invitation to tea, and I hope you will tell me that your mother has improved, and I hope to be able to tell you that we will be able to take you back to the Federation space, give you leave, or even deliver you home ourselves. Because you are currently a member of our crew -- and whether or not some individuals aboard would disagree, I see you all as family. And I will do my best for my family."

Her expression rivaled the one that she'd had at the end of their initial meeting. But she stared, and recovered somewhat. "I haven't felt good about anyone," she said. "I haven't felt I could trust anyone. Counselor Davidson and I concluded what I already knew, that it's hard for so many who have likely lost parents to Cardassian conflicts in the past to trust -- "

"Consider my position. After I was assimilated by the Borg, I received a lot of angry messages."

Jil met his eyes and he thought she might be looking at him for the first time, instead of seeing his rank, his species or his other-ness. Nodding, she rose from the chair, then hesitated.

"You are dismissed, Cadet."

After she'd gone, he went back to the bedroom, and crawled in with Deanna. She woke, peering at him through her lashes, and her lips twitched into a weary smile.

"Diplomacy isn't just for first contact any more," he muttered, pulling his feet up and collapsing into the pillows.

"I hope tomorrow goes well," she said.

"The one place on the ship that I don't have to -- "

"Sorry," she exclaimed, shifting over to put her arm across his chest. "Sleep?"

"As much as possible."

Jean-Luc put his arm around her, kissed the top of her head, and let his eyes close. He could talk to her about Jil later, when things were less likely to go to red alert any second.

 


	13. Chapter 13

"Adira said we would be given a less stressful assignment, next," Jean-Luc said. He put the tiny beanie hat carefully over Amy's head, smiling back at her -- she held up her arms as he picked her up and kissed her cheek.

"You have everything in the bag?" Deanna picked up the satchel they'd packed with what they needed for a five-year-old and a toddler.

"Everything but the food. I'm glad you're feeling better."

He watched her pick up the bag of food. "Yves," she called. Fidele trotted out, followed by Yves. "Ready to go have some fun?"

Risa, for all its reputation for the baser pleasures, had plenty of real estate to picnic on. The meadow she'd chosen was one she'd been to before. He wondered if she would feel any residual angst, as Risa had been the site of her long-ago heartbreak, but she had suggested it as the place to take their crew for some extended leave, and Dr. Mengis wanted to attend a conference being hosted there. On the way to the transporter room, she chatted with Yves about his pending graduation from daycare to school, and his excitement was growing each day.

Amy, meanwhile, draped herself across Jean-Luc's shoulder, her hand clutching the front of his shirt, being a sweet, quiet, mild mannered little girl -- it had been two weeks since her last NoNo, and Mengis had dared suggest that she might be out of the woods and the neurological issues a thing of the past, for the most part. It made it so much easier to cuddle her and treat her with the affection she'd so often repelled, simply by being unable to calm, to be held without significant pressure that quieted her nerve pain.

They materialized on a grassy slope and found a semi-shaded spot under a tree to throw out a blanket, and almost before the baby was down on the blanket, Yves was off, with the dog at his heels, racing down the grass. He fell, rolled, and was on his feet again and running in an instant. Deanna watched him fondly.

"You have a blanket waiting," he said.

Deanna stepped onto the blanket, kicked off her sandals, and settled cross-legged next to him, arranging the skirt of her green sun dress over her knees. Amy grinned at her, rolling on her back and reaching for her mother. "You're tired, little girl," Deanna said, tickling Amy's belly.

"You are too, cygne." He ran his fingers through her hair slowly, which led to her turning so he could braid her hair. He'd had enough practice by this point that it took very little time to do. When he got to the end of the braid, longer than his arm now, he pulled on it, gently, until she had reclined against him.

They all three took a nap, and eventually, when he woke, Jean-Luc heard Fidele barking -- not his aggressive bark but the one he used while playing. That meant Yves was fine, and he could lay there on his back with Deanna draped against him, and Amy sprawled next to him.

He smiled and closed his eyes again. This wasn't on the list of the benefits of being a Starfleet officer, but so far as he was concerned, it should be.

"You've always liked having a Betazoid on your chest," Deanna murmured.

"Also nice to have others of various sizes about," he said. "Feeling better?"

"Risa is a nice place to be. There are so many people enjoying themselves here, and so few who are in any pain. I can relax and not have any fear inflicted on me."

"And having Amy able to sleep at last -- I wonder if we can get away with staying until the twins are born?"

"Probably not," she said, matter-of-fact but with a little regret. Dr. Mengis was going by the Betazoid time table of ten months of gestation, and so the twins had two and a half months left. It was beginning to wear on them. She spent hours with them, but not being able to have the family together consistently was difficult. They had finally, once the twins were large enough to be recognizable as babies, taken Yves and Amy with them. It helped but it was still difficult, especially for Deanna, wanting to hold them but only being able to sense them. Now that she had the ability it was easy for her to include him in that.

"I'm proud of you," he said, caressing her hair. It took the conversation away from the personal, but not by much.

"So you have said." He could tell, because she had relaxed to the point that he sensed her, that she was happy with herself. It was rare to find her actually expressing any satisfaction in her job -- usually she felt she had to strive to improve, or to find a better solution, in stressful situations. He knew she enjoyed her work because he worked closely enough with her to see it, usually. But for her to talk about it was another matter.

The situation with the Mella had concluded on a positive note, and though the mission had taken a long time to resolve she had been able to help him understand the root of the communication problem, of course based in a cultural difference that had not been immediately apparent. And then the mysterious aliens had proven to be an ally of the Mella, only quite paranoid and uncertain but wanting to defend their ally if needed, but there had been some issue with the treaty between the Mella and the Grulla that had prevented direct contact. 

It hadn't been easy, but he'd been able to focus on the work because she had focused -- it had been seamless. She left Mendez to see to the ship, and filtered only what was needed to Jean-Luc from the daily status reports while they worked together to puzzle out the diplomatic situation on Mel. Her telepathy had been useful, not in directly dealing with the Mel, but in communicating with Jean-Luc while dealing with the aliens.

Deanna sat up, reaching for their bag, and as she pulled out some of the items he heard Yves shouting -- they had company. He sat up as well, and stood to greet Ben and Gregory as they approached. Both of them looked down at Amy, sleeping like she'd been running sprints most of the morning -- she had, actually, as she had done for the past four mornings. It was a delightful change from screaming.

"What did you bring?" Jean-Luc asked.

Ben held up the bag he'd brought. "Would you like some?"

It turned out that the counselor had brought cookies, and Deanna pulled out a thermos of coffee. Amy woke as they were discussing a renovation of sickbay, and crawled into Ben's lap to take a bite out of his cookie. Jean-Luc smiled and glanced at Deanna -- it was such a relief to see their little girl feeling so much better and behaving like a normal toddler.

"Choc'itt chip," she announced, reaching for Ben's hand again.

"Sure, you can have my cookie," Ben said. "Good to see she's feeling well. I was starting to worry that she just didn't like me."

"Papa," Yves cried, warning him -- suddenly the full weight of their little boy landed on his shoulders.

"It appears you are trying to get my attention."

Yves laughed in his ear and slid off to land on the blanket next to him. He reached in the open bag for a cookie.

"I haven't had a chance to complement you on your achievement," Mengis said. His green eyes were trained on Deanna. "The Mel were a difficult species to form a relationship with. I've been surprised over the years, by the changes in the Federation -- the Ferengi were difficult, the Romulans were considered impossible by many and the assumption was they would never join the Federation. I've got to guess that Starfleet wasn't hopeful, sending us out to meet with the Mella, because not every diplomatic assignment ends with commendations."

"It's not unusual for the species we meet to be hard to understand. Or xenophobic. Frightened to death is another matter," Deanna said.

"It's a first, apologizing for looking like some species we've never met," Jean-Luc said.

"How did you guess that was the real problem?" Ben asked.

Jean-Luc looked at his first officer. She sighed. "They were reacting as if it was difficult to be in our presence because it was triggering unwarranted emotions. It occurred to me during the second week of negotiations that perhaps it was more trauma than xenophobia."

"Based on what you sensed?" Ben asked.

"Maman, come look at the frogs," Yves said. Deanna glanced at Jean-Luc as she stood up, and Amy stood up out of Ben's lap wanting her to pick her up, and shortly both of the children were walking down the slope toward the pond with their mother.

"I'm glad she's better," Ben said quietly.

Gregory gave the counselor a sidelong look. "Better than she's been in months, I think. Despite the issues with the pregnancy, which I have to say you handled incredibly well, Jean-Luc."

"What makes you think I did anything?"

Gregory simply smirked and glanced again at the the counselor, who shook his head.

"The past couple of years have been extremely challenging for her. I wonder at times if the two months we had Admiral Jellico aboard traumatized her," Ben said quietly.  
  
Jean-Luc stared at him, thinking about the times he had considered asking the counselor about that, but refrained. "What do you mean?"  
  
Ben wasn't looking at him. Gregory was -- with sympathy, an unusual thing for the doctor to have, outside sickbay. Doctor and counselor exchanged a glance and Gregory sighed. "I suppose it is to be expected that she hasn't said much to you about it. On the one hand, you're her captain. On the other, you were recovering, and she's quite protective."  
  
He glared at them now. "I want to know what happened. What did he do?"  
  
"He was brusque, dismissive, and I think I've met friendlier rocks," Ben said. "He was angry most of the time -- he showed it in meetings, when she disagreed with him. And that was nearly every meeting. She refused to follow his orders once."  
  
"That was the cause of the court-martial," Jean-Luc said. "But that didn't proceed very far."  
  
"No. Because she was right." Gregory was watching the kids playing at the edge of the pond, with Deanna looking on while Yves held up a small creature. "I don't believe that standing up to him was so damaging to her. She cared far more about seeing our wayward officers return, and that you were recovering.  Jellico was nothing more than a nuisance."  
  
Jean-Luc scowled. "I remember Jellico, from the time he spent aboard the _Enterprise_ while I was reassigned -- I remember Will telling me that he'd been removed from duty, because he questioned Jellico's orders."  
  
"So in the previous two postings I've had, I hadn't seen this kind of problem," Ben said. "I was on a starbase and then stationed on a small research vessel, as you know. And neither of those commanding officers were like Jellico, or you. I'd suppose there would be a broad variation, based on personalities, but the more I read and talk to other counselors, the more I see a spectrum of command style that runs from authoritarian to friendly and personable, with some changes depending on situation. Not so much a variation as a matter of degree -- which I'd guess has something to do with preparing for command?"  
  
"Something to do with it, yes. What mystifies me is that despite his consistent rigidity, Jellico has diplomatic successes to his credit."  
  
Gregory looked almost angry. "He does, but most of those are pre-Dominion War negotiations with the Cardassians. As we all know, that doesn't mean Jellico has any real diplomatic acumen."  
  
Ben raised an eyebrow at his friend. "That's right, you had past first-hand experience with Jellico."  
  
"Oh, yes. Before he was promoted to admiral, I spent four years aboard his ship. If you want an example of how the manner of the captain directly influences the atmosphere aboard a vessel, that was a perfect example. What a fine group of professionals they were, all afraid to talk to each other informally. It was difficult to predict how Jellico would react to idle chitchat in the context of a meeting."  
  
"I have trouble believing the man had children. Is it possible to have grandchildren without children?" Ben said.  
  
"You said he wasn't damaging to her directly. But it can't have helped her, to be in the middle of a difficult situation, pregnant, and having him there," Jean-Luc said.  
  
Gregory frowned. "It did not."  
  
"I've heard Jellico is retired now," Ben said.  
  
"Which is likely best, for all concerned," Mengis added.  
  
Deanna returned with Amy in her arms and handed her down to Papa before dropping to her knees on the blanket. "Yves is finding the little creatures in the pond fascinating. He's counting polliwogs and having Fidele identify different things. You can continue talking about Jellico, if you want, it's not a difficult topic."  
  
The doctor and the counselor stared at her, reminding Jean-Luc that she still did not make it clear to everyone how much she could sense about people, just using empathy. "Greg was remembering what he was like as a captain."  
  
"Pretending he knew what he was doing. Yes, I remember the first time he came aboard, while you were on temporary assignment. He didn't like any of us. Very close-minded and unable to adapt. Frustrated that we were giving him feedback, or trying to provide information he hadn't asked for."  
  
"Pretending?" Gregory echoed.  
  
"He didn't take me seriously. He pretended to be confident, and all the while he vacillated between fear and frustration that we wouldn't blindly follow him. Before he left the _Enterprise_ for the last time, I told him that he was one of the most insecure, arrogant, and willfully stupid officers that I have ever met and that I couldn't trust him."  
  
Ben was gaping. "Oh," he said at last.  
  
"How did he react to that?" Greg asked, with a feral grin.  
  
It was a rare thing, Jean-Luc thought, for Deanna to look so happy about using her abilities in such a way. She didn't look at any of them, but was smiling while watching Yves run around the pond after Fidele. "He didn't know what to say. He was shocked -- and I told him he shouldn't be shocked, that there was plenty of evidence right in front of him if he cared to take off the blindfold of his own prejudice and think about what we'd been through, and why I chose as I had, and that I knew he truly thought that my being an empath was irrelevant, but he should have done a better job of hiding his insecurity.... At that point he started to deny, and so I started listing his feelings during the last staff meeting and then he left without another word."  
  
"He never said a word about it," Jean-Luc exclaimed, letting Amy get another cookie. "I accessed some of his logs about the mission, when I returned to duty."  
  
"What could he say? I said it outside the context of any meeting, or official situation. He was about to leave the ship, after the conclusion of the mission. I said nothing about him that was untrue."

"I suppose I should be clear that you don't need to list my feelings during staff meetings," Jean-Luc said, trying not to smile.

"We all know how you feel about things, sir," Ben said with a lopsided grin. "Especially the important things."

"Your integrity doesn't require my verification," Deanna said with almost the same grin.

"Good."

"Have you heard from Jil?" Deanna asked.

"Not yet."

"You mean the Cardassian cadet, who went on family leave?" Ben asked. He'd granted the request as the counselor.

"Evidently her mother was quite ill." Deanna smiled at Ben. "You were helping her."

Ben pointed at Jean-Luc. "So was he. I think he was doing more than I was. She's a conflicted girl who needs a good friend."

"Perhaps even a father figure." Deanna leaned a little to take his hand. "And you're not even complaining about it."

"She's the first Cardassian in Starfleet. If I'm going to hold to my own beliefs, my principles, it's -- "

"Jean. You know you don't need to posture about things like this with us."

He looked down at Amy, sitting in his lap as if he were her own private easy chair, picking chocolate chips out of her cookie. The resulting crumbs were peppering his pant leg. "I suppose given the evidence it's easy to see I'm a soft touch."

"Naw," Ben said with a grin.

"Cookie," Amy said brightly, holding up what was left of hers to attempt to put it in her papa's mouth. She squealed when he nipped her fingers and laughed in the unrestrained way of a toddler.

"Not soft at all," Deanna said, squeezing his fingers.


	14. Chapter 14

Jean-Luc arrived in quarters to find Deanna contemplating two dresses. 

"It's an unusual circumstance, finding you having difficulty choosing one," he remarked as he started to change out of the uniform. 

"What do I wear to the birth of my children that I'm not birthing?" she said, and the tears in her voice shocked him -- she had to have been blocking him out for him to miss that. He threw aside the jacket and went to slide his arms around her from behind. She turned to reciprocate the embrace, and cried on his shoulder briefly.

Over the past week she had been fine -- or so he'd thought. Tom and Beverly were there, waiting in sickbay, and everyone was anticipating the event. Guinan had thrown a baby shower three weeks ago, and the senior staff had been there, as well as Malia and others who'd cared for the older siblings, all smiles and happy for them. Deanna hadn't seemed anguished. Tears, yes, but with a smile.

"We can postpone," he murmured. 

"I can't -- not another day," she exclaimed, pulling out of his arms and whirling to snatch up the sky blue dress, throwing it on and tying it at the waist then fussing with the fasteners down the front. He caught her hands, stilled them, gently guided them out of the way and finished straightening the collar and smoothing out wrinkles and folds.

"Breathe."

"I know," she said, smiling at him, her cheeks still wet. 

"It's almost done. Are you sure you can settle for a month off?"

"If your interim first officer delays his exit he could lose the position he already accepted."

"The next assignment will be less demanding, that's true," he said. "But the captain is not an overbearing, angry, asshole, either."

Deanna stared at him with such an indecipherable look that he took both her hands in his, and waited for her to say something. 

"We haven't talked about how I've changed, since the Phase," she said after a moment.

"Since the beginning of my disability last year. We haven't talked about those changes either."

Her dark eyes played out her long moments of dismay, then acceptance of it.

"You spent a lot of time being uncertain of the decisions you were making. Jellico didn't help -- he made it more difficult. I was so - elsewhere, that I couldn't notice, not that you were letting me see any of it."

Woe, again, glimmering in her eyes, pulling her mouth into a frown. 

"But you were the officer I knew you to be, in the end. I don't expect anything to be easy, far from it. I expect you to prevail. You always have. I came to the conclusion long ago that the real measure of competence was in determination and perseverance, not overconfidence, bravado or even intelligence. You can learn along the way, but you can't make it in Starfleet without determination. So that you were struggling makes me feel regret, that I was unable to help you through it. But it doesn't make me question whether you are a good first officer."

She smiled through the tears, and gripped his hands. "Thank you, for that. I know you've said variations of that to me, over time, but it's like anything we learn, we feel it when we feel it. I feel it, now. I do know that I'm up to the task. I think... I've known that for a while, but it's like we can't quite catch our breath, sometimes. And it seems strange, talking about this now, but it's one of those places we've ended up at times where everything comes together and it all feels... right."

"It all feels right, yes. I told you so."

"All the way back at the start. You told me we would make it work." Her dimples started to show. "You have every right to be smug."

"You have every right to share that with me, too, since it was your efforts that kept us alive, for a significant part of it." He tugged her along toward the door. "There are babies to be had. Come, Cygne."

"You're still in uniform."

"Tom's right, it's a tattoo," he said, referring to their friend's habit of joking about his never being out of uniform.

He ended up changing the shirt, at least, and hurried down to sickbay with her. There was a crowd in main sickbay, with Beverly and Tom at the forefront of it all, but everyone including Yves and Amy stayed where they were as Dr. Mengis led them around to intensive care. 

Mengis gave them a couple of plush, soft blankets, and turned to the incubator they had been visiting for ten months daily without fail. "This is going to seem quite uneventful, but you'll probably appreciate that. If you sit down, drape the blanket in your lap...."

It was the least traumatic, least eventful birth he'd ever heard of -- within a minute of Mengis' instructions, a baby materialized in each of their laps simultaneously, curled up on their left sides, and coughing. Jean-Luc barely heard Mengis instructing them to hold them a certain way, while he suctioned fluid out of their mouths and the first few weak cries started. He had Cordelia bundled in the blanket shortly thereafter, and glanced at Deanna -- she was crying openly, rocking Jean-Pierre and beaming down at him. 

It would be a party in sickbay in a while. But Mengis left them there, after determining both of the twins were doing well, and Jean-Luc put an arm around his wife and enjoyed another of those moments that made all the work and the pain worth enduring.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, it feels like there are things left undone. Because this was about the process of having the twins, and the things that were going on in the background were parts of other stories.


End file.
